#need to burn this post into my retinas

[queers-gambit]

Affirmation King

prompt: ( requested ) attending university as a full-time student is hard, but your boyfriend makes some of the stress worth it.

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 3.1k+

note: author gives unsolicited advice in the form of sharing a citation website to make college essays a little easier! this is not meant as promotion or anything, it's just your author trying to share a resource they know of.

warnings: cursing, small hurt large comfort (reader snaps a little at Carmy but he handles it like a fucking pro), author gives unsolicited college advice in the form of a recommended website, reader is in a masters program and not undergrad, fluff.

The 16 inch screen glared into your retinas, fingers feeling numb from the hours pounding away at the loose keyboard. When the screen started to warble and darken, your head ducked down slightly to try and preserve your visual; glaring up at the offender when they pressed the screen closed after forcing you to retract your hands.

"You're cute and all, but not so cute as to interrupt me like that," you deadpanned, eyes wide and burning from your lack of lubrication via blinking.

"You've been sat here for hours, it's time for a break."

"Funny when I say that to you, it's always, 'Get outta my kitchen.'"

Carmy smirked, "Come eat something."

"Let me finish this essay and - "

"No, it's time for a meal."

You felt your irritation spike, narrowing your eyes slightly, "I'm on a deadline, Carmen, so either be fucking helpful and productive or get the fuck out of my space. I've got work to do and you're just slowing me down."

He offered a patient look, asking, "Is that what you really wanted to say?"

You paused, then shook your head, "No... May I try again?"

"Of course," he nodded.

"I appreciate you trying to... Alleviate some of my stress," you spoke slowly, stringing the sentence together in realtime, "but this project isn't something I can ignore right now, so, I'd like to finish this thing before we do whatever else."

"Better," he teased, knowing you ran a short fuse when stressed out and overworked. "What's got you riled up?"

"I have this 20-page paper due."

"20 pages!?"

"It's not that bad, honestly, once you have your thesis together," you chuckled dryly. "it's just time consuming and meticulous."

He frowned and stepped forward to press a kiss to your forehead, mocking in a sarcastic tone, "You're doing amazing, sweetie."

"I'm so tired," you pouted up at him. "Do I really need this degree? This is so much stress for such a little thing such as a piece of paper that cost me $50k just to say I'm allowed to join the work force."

"Hey, hey," he laughed. "Just remember what you're working towards. You're one assignment closer to your internship turning into a full-time gig, right?"

You nodded, "You're right. I want that job so bad... I just hate how busy I feel - it's like, how can I remember to eat let alone write 6 different response posts to my classmate's work?"

Carmy nodded with empathy, "Just remember that end goal, baby. Keep grinding, keep moving. Almost at the finish line, right?"

"Right," you nodded with a smile. "Thank you, angel face."

Carmy smiled at you before softly asking, "Want me to bring you anything? Something to eat, drink, a condom?"

"Stop quoting Mean Girls at me!"

His hands shot up in defense, deflecting, "I was just trying to be a gracious host. If the missus wants anything, I'll make sure she has it."

"Pretty sure 'missus' is a term used for wives - " His groan made you laugh lightly, then covering, "No, thank you, baby, I'm okay. I should only be about another hour or so...?"

"All right, yeah, sure. I'll start dinner in 30, okay?"

"Sure," you smiled, already distracted again as you lifted your screen again to stare at the Word document that had been haunting your hard-drive for about 3 weeks now.

"Hey," he interrupted, "don't forget your glasses."

"Thank you," you mumbled, reaching for the special, blue-light filtering glasses Carmy had gifted you when you first started your Master's program. He claimed staring at a computer screen was going to cause long-term damage (he read an article) and got you a pair, which, you had to admit, made a huge difference.

Your hair was raked into a new bun as you reread the last of your essay, trying to get back in the academic mindset in order to finish the last bit of your assignment. There were textbooks spewed around your work table; laptop plugged in, highlighters and pens and notebooks within reach and a nearly-finished bottle of water was set to the side. You wrote ferociously once you got back on the right mental track, feeling your headache stir to life as you blindly reached for your water bottle.

However, when you picked it up, you blinked in mild shock when the bottle was heavier than before. Glancing over, you realized Carmy had replaced the bottle because there, under where it had sat, he left you a handwritten note:

replenish what you lost from crying!

You chuckled, knowing you were a stress cryer and when tackling big assignments like this, you were ten times as stressed as usual. Still you worked, even putting your headphones on to play soothing background noise - like rainfall. Your neck cramped, back ached, temples throbbed, and hands were cramping. Still you worked, using sticky notes to flag the important quotes you wanted to use from your textbooks and notebooks. Your stomach growled, your eyes begged for reprieve, chest felt tight, and shoulders were too tense.

Still. You. Worked.

Deadlines were important to you, and while you were a professional procrastinator, you always turned everything in on time - no matter your mental state. You could smell whatever Carmy had started cooking, focused on writing as you only used spellcheck as you went - and still you worked. You knew you surpassed the hour limit you told Carmy, but you couldn't stop, you were so close to finishing, it almost put tears back in your eyes, but this time out of relief. You only paused to look at online sources and apply chapstick, cracking your tightly-wound knuckles, and when you finished the last body paragraph of the essay, grinned to yourself.

All that was left was your conclusion, to create a bibliography, and to edit - but you were almost home free!

Suddenly, you jumped in fright when a hand planted on your shoulder; whipping around to see your boyfriend's own startled expression. "Sorry," Carmy apologized with a wince when you removed your headphones, "didn't mean to scare you, just wanted to check on you."

You nodded, 'Yeah, no, I'm almost done. Like give me 20 minutes, almost done-almost done."

He smiled softly, "Dinner's ready when you are."

"I'll be there soon, thank you, angel face."

"Can I help with anything?"

"Uh," you cocked your head, "you know what? Maaaaybe..."

"Really?" He grinned, perking up. "You never let me help!"

"It's not really work, per se," you amended, "but would you mind letting me read this out loud to you - see if it makes sense? The mark of a good writer is to act as if the audience knows nothing about the subject and make them understand, and you're exactly that."

"Lemme hear it," he nodded, taking a seat, "I might not be much help but I can still try."

You agreed and finished typing the outline of your conclusion, then scrolled to the top of your word document, and explained to him what your class was before starting to read. He listened intently, sitting on a spare stool with his elbows resting on his knees; keeping him leaned forward to provide his undivided attention. You managed to reword a few sentences, only noticing they didn't make sense when you read them out loud. Once or twice, Carmy even offered an alternative phrasing you liked - making the changes and rereading, then continuing through your assignment.

By the end, you were able to beef up the conclusion and Carmy was grinning at you in pride. "That's real good, baby," he complimented, "it all made sense and rolled nice together. I think that has to be an 'A'-worthy paper."

"You should be the one grading theses, my professor's the worst," you frowned. "It's why I got so in my head, I got a fucking 76 on my last essay and need to do really well on the next few to help average my grade."

"What about the tests?"

"We don't have any, this class is all about writing material and turning it in," you pouted.

"Hey," he spoke seriously, making you look at him in question, "I'm really proud of you."

You giggled nervously, "Oh, yeah? Why? What for?"

"For doing this," he nodded to the desk. "Look at all you're doing, baby, there's no way I'd ever be able to keep up with this kinda shit. You're doing such a great fucking job - I want you to remember that. What you're doing ain't easy, but you're handling this like a pro."

"I cry, like, everyday..."

"So what? You still get shit done while emoting - call that multitasking, baby."

"Got me there."

"Seriously, though, you're not told enough what a fantastic job you're doing; how strong and resilient you have to be to deal with this kind of stress day-in and day-out. I see the hard work you put in," he promised, "and I want you to know how fucking proud I am of you. It's all gonna be worth it one day, but until then, I love watching you grind through school. I might not take the classes with you, but I'll help however I can, whenever I can."

"Thank you," you whispered. "It's really nice to hear... I feel myself burning out and it's nice to be reminded that what I do now will influence my future. Validates me in feeling stressed out, you know? Sometimes, I feel silly 'cause, like, there's so many bigger things to be upset about and here I am, stressed out at a place that's guaranteed to stress me out..."

"It's not silly, it's normal. College ain't easy," he reminded, "and you're just trying to keep yourself afloat."

"Yeah, but there's bigger things in life than something trivial as my education."

Carmy scoffed at you, shaking his head, "Ain't no way."

"What?"

"My girl just said her feelings are trivial... Nah, she said her emotions about her education is trivial," he shook his head again. "Should wash your mouth out with soap - talkin' crazy like that. Baby, you know, first and foremost, your education is high on our priorities list, but your emotions? You think they're trivial? Nah, if anything causes you to have any emotion, it's valid - it's not something silly or redundant."

You pouted slightly, "You always know what to say."

"Hungry?"

"You're the perfect man," you laughed, looking at your document again and humming. "Okay, so, lemme just cite my sources and turn this in."

"Then you wanna have date night?" He smirked.

"No, no, I'm so tired - "

"I meant we can stay in."

"Oh, then count me in!"

"Change into something cozy when you're done, we can watch a movie with dinner. Yeah?"

You agreed, accepted his kiss of encouragement, and then took his leave to reheat the dinner that had surely cooled off. It didn't take long to cite everything when you used an online citation source website - that IS N O T plagiarizing! It's a handy-dandy tool you discovered your undergraduate freshman year by an actual professor. It was as simple as choosing which style, APA or MLA, and then to either paste the URL of the website you need sourced or you type in the book's information. Hit the generate button and BAM! A perfect citation for your bibliography every single time.

Or if you didn't like that, you could always just Google citation examples and do your best to write it out yourself. But the website, Citation Machine dot net, was a great tool. After perfecting your in-text citations and saving your work, you uploaded it to your university's assignment portal, crossed the essay off your to-do list, and stretched on your feet.

Cleaning up your space minimally, you hustled to your bedroom to get a quick hot, relieving shower, change, and then met Carmy in the kitchen. "Hey," you sighed with a soft smile.

"Hey, doll. All done?"

"For tonight," you groaned, "but tomorrow's a new day with new assignments."

"That's a future problem we'll handle at a later time," he eased, showing you your dinner plate. "Ta-daaaa!"

You grinned, "Oh, baby, this looks amazing!"

"Yeah, well, I kinda figured as a full-time student right now, nobody was gonna remind you what incredible job you're doing, so, I'm more than happy to step up to the plate. And what better treat than your favorite meal, huh?"

"Thank you," you whispered, pecking his lips.

You often thought his love language was "food", but then you realized it was technically under the acts of service and quality time. He loved cooking for you - it was like a gift. He loved cooking with you - it was time spent bonding. He loved introducing you to new dishes - it's a present! He loved when you let him give you a culinary lesson - it was time well spent.

"C'mon," Carmy lead you to the living room, both crashing on the couch you had been gifted from your grandmother's house when she was put in a nursing home. Normally, you wouldn't have splurged on something like this, but considering it was free, you and Carmy were happy to use it. Settling together on the couch, you got cozy under a shared blanket and Carmy flicked some movie on for background noise, but instead of watching, he just asked you about your coursework.

You told him what you could, shaking your head and huffing about how annoying your program was. How hectic. How jam packed and fast-paced it all seemed to be. How your head felt like it was spinning. How you couldn't nail down workable coping mechanisms and just felt totally out of control. You were spiraling.

You needed this rant session.

Carmy listened intently.

He never once tried to say, "oh, but if you had time management," or anything like, "if you do THIS instead..." or some bullshit, "my way works better." His bright and wide blue eyes watched you the entire time, sighing when you got to the end of your meal and vent session.

"It just feels like, I turn in one assignment, I get three more right after. Turn in those three, and all of a sudden, there's another 10!"

"Does the syllabus say anything about that?" He wondered.

"No, it just said what our reading schedules were and when major assignments are due. But those dates all got shuffled around that it feels like a train wreck. You know, if the original schedule was kept from the syllabus, I wouldn't feel so worked up! It's the rearrangement and added assignments without warning that's throwing me off."

"That doesn't sound easy," he validated. "Anything I can do to help?"

"No, you're doing more than enough," you whispered, pecking his lips. "Thank you for dinner."

"I made dessert, too."

"No!" You gasped with a grin.

"Mhm - wait here. I'll grab it."

"Wow, dinner, movie, and dessert?" You teased, "I'm being spoiled tonight."

"You've been working your ass off for weeks now," he smirked, standing from his seat to pick up your plates, "this is the least I could do. I know I said it, but you know how good a job you're doing, right? Damn, baby," he chuckled, "ain't no way I could ever handle shit like that on the regular."

"I could't do what you do, either."

"We all balance our crazy different. Want some tea? Wine?"

"Tea would be great."

"Comin' up."

When Carmy returned, you pulled the blanket back to let him sit again with the dessert plate between you both; two steaming mugs of tea sat on the coffee table. "What's this?" You wondered, seeing a sort of pastry.

"Marcus told me 'bout this," he chuckled. "Kinda like a poor man's version of this one thing he makes. So, look, it's Pillsbury Crescent Rolls, right? In the middle, there's raspberry preserves - or jam if you want that instead. It's baked then drizzled in melted white chocolate."

"Wow, you got all fancy on me," you beamed.

"Hardly, more like I was a little impulsive after hearing your essay. Figured you could use some dessert - you really earned it, baby. You always earn dessert," he grinned, "but tonight, you were kickass. Know that? Hear me?"

You shook your head, "This is nothing compared - "

"Hey, hey, nah," he interrupted, "nah, nah, don't do that, don't try to invalidate or downplay yourself. Look, shit is always hard in college, right? But you handle it so well, I can see the work you're putting in and the little reward you receive in return, and know that shit's gotta add up for you. But my baby just keeps cool, does her work, and does what she can to earn the grades she does. Right?"

"I mean, I try to..."

"You succeed. C'mon, lemme hear you say it. 'I kick college's ass.'"

"I kick college's ass."

"'I work hard.'"

"Carmy - "

"Saaay it!"

You huffed, "I work hard."

"'I'm an incredible hard worker.'"

"I'm an incredible hard worker."

"'I am only human.'"

Another breath in, repeating, "I am only human."

"'I am a success.'"

"I try to be a success."

"That wasn't the quote."

"Well, I don't know if I'm succeeding because grades aren't finalized yet and I have - "

"No, no, no," he smirked again, "you're still successful 'cause you're doing such a kickass job. You could get a fucking 'D' on something, and guess what? You're still successful 'cause you don't let this tear you down, you learn from mistakes and apply whatever lessons you learn to your upcoming assignments. Some people say you might even learn more from losing and failing than from undisputed success. Look, I'll be honest, I thought my job was hectic as shit, but hearing your essay tonight? Goddamn, you're not just beautiful, but so fucking intelligent, too. Baby, I was shook - that sounded like some academic paper that college kids need to defend their thesis or some shit. Something scholarly, not some assignment you gotta hand in by a deadline so you just wrote down whatever. So, give yourself credit and tell yourself you're a success."

With a long, deep breath, you answered earnestly, "I'm a success."

"Good girl," he muttered, handing you a fork finally. However, unlike Mikey all those years ago, you didn't launch your utensil at anyone and used it to cut off a corner of pastry.

You moaned when you tasted the gooey goodness. You managed through a mouthful, "Mmhhh! Mhm! Mhm! If you make this every time I have some assignment pissing me off and stressing me out, I'm afraid I'll get used to this treatment."

Carmy grinned, "You deserve whatever dessert you want, whenever you want. Huh? Yeah? Lemme hear you say it."

With another grin, you mused, "I deserve whatever I want, when I want it... And however I want it!"

"Atta girl!"

"You're so fucking corny," you laughed lightly, feeling as if you were falling in love with him again, "but thank you, my Affirmation King."

requesting rules and masterlist

The Bear masterlist

[lacrimosathedark]

I need the comic book fanfic writers to be made very aware of something:

Roy Harper is the only one to EVER call Jason Todd "Jaybird".

This isn't a family name that he picked up on, or that Roy made and the family has adopted. Roy is literally the only person to call him that. Dick doesn't, Babs doesn't, Bruce doesn't, nobody but Roy does.

The others call him Jay sometimes, in old comics Jace was said a few times (which I actually like and wish people would use literally at all). Bruce has said "Jay, lad" like once and fandom adopted him calling Jason "Jaylad" but that's not horribly egregious so I tolerate it. Dick occasionally calls Jason "little wing". That's about it.

Jaybird is very specifically a Roy Harper thing.

(Honestly yall better appreciate me actually looking back in RHATO 2011 because BOY do I hate this comic. It's not only poorly written, but in my opinion, ugly as fucking sin and I need to burn my retinas now)

That is the first instance of Jason ever being called "Jaybird", and it becomes a lowkey running gag that Roy calls him that and Jason "hates" it.

And then we get this post Heroes In Crisis

This whole thing may have been poorly written because, again, Scott Lobdell sucks, but the intent is to evoke intimacy to make Roy's death hurt. Jason is supposed to have just lost his best friend and was told by Bruce Wayne whose last appearance in his life was beating the shit out of him and, oh yeah, who saved Jason? Roy Fucking Harper.

In addition to the fact that Roy only left Jason to get help for himself. He was supposed to be in rehab/therapy, somewhere safe, and he fucking died because of handwavy Speedforce shenanigans or whatever it's been retconned to now because nobody liked Heroes in Crisis. Roy was supposed to be getting better and he died ostensibly in an accident. Like if that's not the worst fucking bullshit--

This scene of Jason calling himself by what he deems a stupid nickname would mean jack shit if everyone and their goddamn cat called him "Jaybird". But it being a Roy-specific thing makes this scene distinctly about Jason being vulnerable and actively grieving. It's such a cliche trope, and a real coping mechanism, to call a deceased loved one's phone just to hear their voice in their inbox message again. He probably has no thoughts that Roy will ever hear it so this is just for him, but he's letting himself accept this dumb nickname Roy gave him now because it was Roy that gave it to him and Roy is fucking dead.

Like, in fairness it probably frustrates me more because I ship the two and parallel it with Oliver calling Dinah "pretty bird", but like...even as just a cheeky friend nickname, nothing romantic behind it, having everyone else call Jason that feels wrong. Especially his family who he still has so many issues with and, like it or not, he's closer to Roy than literally any of the Bats at this point.

This isn't the only time I've seen the fandom do this (this being giving nicknames between characters that just don't exist); Jason calling Tim "replacement" is absolutely rampant in the fandom and I hate that too because he never calls Tim that, and refers to him as such like once. I have a whole list of actual nicknames and insults these motherfuckers call each other somewhere, but maybe another time.

In short

STOP HAVING EVERYONE CALL HIM JAYBIRD.

Thank you and have a nice day. <3

[sminiac]

BESTIE I NEED YOU TO HEAR ME OUT

xikers reaction to you wearing lingerie for the first time?

U r the best writer on this app fr

💌 — BFF!!! I cannot accept this compliment in good conscience when I have the mutuals that I have, but it makes me incredibly happy that you’re enjoying the stuff that I put out :,) LOTS OF LOVE!!! (I can’t tell if this is okay or not, but I’m posting so…)

Warnings — NSFW focused, light smut, MDNI.

Minjae would be so incredibly taken aback, like he’s just so mesmerized to the point that he barely remembers that he’s physically in front of you until you’re poking at him, asking if he’s okay, and like- no???? The type to feel like it’s his first time being intimate with you again, shaky hands and stuttered words cut short by the haste of trying to settle his breathing back into a comfortable pace before you start noticing. Once he gets over the initial shock of seeing you in something so revealing it’s all he can ever think about, asking for pictures frequently, even when he’s working. It’s just- how could the mental image ever leave that pretty head of his once he’s seen it for himself, experienced it.

“Can you say something?” His gaze is fixated, unwavering even as you’re subconsciously starting to curl in on yourself from the fear of his sudden and intense silence. “Anything?” You squeak, hands wrinkling the thin fabric as they slide to cover the parts of you his eyes repeatedly flit between. Before you’re able to succeed in your feeble attempt to shield away, his hand gently catches at your wrist, silently easing it further back until he can see all of you again. “Don’t- just. I just need to take all of you in, for a minute, if you don’t mind?” The words scramble together in a careless attempt, he just needs more time, that’s all it is, needs the image of you splayed out so pretty to be burned into his retinas so that he’ll never have to conjure up the sight from scratch again.

“You’re everything, you know that? My pretty girl.”

Junmin is the type to be shy with his words but confident in his hands, poor thing can’t get a full sentence out without being accompanied by stuttering and taking back words because the way he strung them together didn’t quite convey the way he’s feeling, but could he ever? All while words tangle at his tongue his hands move to touch you with a surprisingly firm grip, he doesn’t tremble, he isn’t hesitant, he knows that you’re his to touch, why would lingerie change that? No way he doesn’t have a thing for those diaphanous babydoll’s, specifically likes having you ride him in them, watching through the delicate coloured fabric as you’re repeatedly swallowing down his cock.

“You’re- this, this is what your surprise is?” He’s got his lower face nestled into the crook of his arm, knowing that if it were to be shown you’d laugh at how evidently warm he’s gotten in the matter of seconds. “You don’t like it? I thought it was, pretty.” You catch a glimpse at yourself in the mirror, smoothing out the thin mesh, unabashed as you adjust it around the seams, meanwhile Junmin is sitting like stone on the bed, fighting with himself over allowing himself to fully take you in or to keep awkwardly looking away from you every few seconds. You’re his girlfriend though, he could stare without there being any repercussions, right? Without it being weird, you wouldn’t mind, surely. He continues eyeing you up through the mirror, eventually quietly asking of you to come to him, that he just: “wants a better look.” Shifting himself to sit at the edge of the bed, guiding you to stand between his legs, your back to him so you can watch through the mirror as he inspects the small embellishments he couldn’t see as well from afar, the delicate lace detailing that lines the bust. He thinks you make the set even prettier, just wants you to admire it too while his fingers are fucking into you, eyes suddenly not so shy.

Before Sumin actually sees you in lingerie he’d sometimes make passing comments about someday wanting to, walking past a certain store in the mall? He’s shameless in pointing out certain pieces through the windows, even going as far as to explain that he thinks you’d look good in certain colours, patterns, cut. Isn’t shy about the specifics at all, which is why he has the biggest grin on his face seeing you in familiar looking panties paired with a similarly style of bra, a thin silk robe with intricate patterns haphazardly balanced on your shoulders. Think he definitely has a thing for silk, there’s this thought that’s been rotting in my head that he he buys silk ribbon, uses it in the bedroom on you, but also as a sort of outfit accessory in public, lol. He’d have a thing for those crazy detailed sets, like the ones with garter belts, lace, ribbon etc.

“So you did get it, I was wondering why you were so short with me when I called.” Whatever was on his phone couldn’t be less important than it is now, it falls from the tips of his fingers into the soft comforter, fuck, he could’ve thrown it across the room and not blinked twice. “You wouldn’t shut up about it, big mouth.” You pull out a chuckle, though it sounds distant, like the sound you make when you can’t tell exactly what the other persons saying so you laugh in hopes that it fits the context, he doesn’t regard it, his hands just need to be everywhere, anywhere. “You can put it to use then.” Guiding you into the bed, his eyes move in the same fashion that his fingers do as they run across your skin, slipping under the thin band of your underwear, he runs it all the way to the round of your hip before he goes still. “Take this off.” He says, already so eager, making his own work of it before you have the chance, “But- I thought this is what you wanted?”

“Don’t care, you look too good, just needta’ fuck you. Now.”

Jinsik, sweet boy, would be so constant and loose lipped with his praise. Maybe only briefly mentioned it once or twice, but never explicitly stated that he’d want you in something so scandalous, even if it’s just for a night, but he gets so giddy when you’re telling him to take off one of his over sized shirts you’ve thrown on top to keep the surprise hidden, the lace details so pretty under the tips of his fingers as he drags the hem of his shirt further up your torso, the more that’s revealed the more strained he’s becoming in his sweats. The type to want to make you the focus of the night, because you’re so sweet, dressing up just for him, will want to let you know how appreciative he is.

“You’re not real,” he breathes, eyes nervously darting from your face and back down to the slow motion of his arm that works his shirt up and out of the way. “there’s no way.” You’re giggling in his ear, a hand idly rubbing through his soft hair, keeping the ends from falling over his eyes, but he’s far too entranced to care. “You’re so dramatic.” His tongue wets at his lip to keep the words flowing steady, cause if not then they’d surely lodge into the back of his throat seeing the way the trim of your bra hugs at the top of your breasts. “Can I… I’m allowed to touch you?” The front of his brows raise, his eyes big, cute as he silently pleads with you. “‘s is all for you, I’d hope that you’re allowed.” His irises roll, the corner of his mouth pulling into a crooked grin, but his fingers keep moving, feather light, almost teasing.

“You don’t even realize that you’ve got me wrapped around your finger. Tell me what to do next, please baby- tell me what you need.”

I think out of all of them, Hyunwoo would be the most collected, manages to keep a level head despite how raptured he is with you. I think he’d also be the most nonchalant, yet confident in bringing up lingerie, the type to be comfortable to talk with about it while not having to worry about him dropping dizzy to the floor once the pieces are actually laid out in front of him. Wants you to know that whatever you’re comfortable with, what you feel good in, is more than enough for him.

“You’re already making me hard.” His head curls into his shoulder, watching as you wrestle off your clothes that were purposely thrown on top, knees dug securely into the mattress beside to keep you steady in your hurried attempt. “I haven’t even taken this off yet.” His hand moves to rest over the top of your thigh, thumb rubbing warm circles into your skin, sighing, “I know, but it’s the fact that I know what’s under. You can’t blame me, you’re just so attractive in general.” He’s offering to help undress you, but only because you’re taking so long by yourself, and his hips are starting to subconsciously roll at the thought of what’s yet to come. Plants wet kisses anywhere he can possibly reach once he’s got you laid out, secretly just wanting a closer look, to get a feel, because tonight will certainly be on replay in his head for months on end. The following weeks he’s trying to subtly get you into lingerie as often as he can, becomes a real sucker for taking you shopping for new sets.

[cnnmairoll]

Hello. I was wondering if you could you write a platonic angst story where the reader is Blade's child. I was thinking usually the only thing that could calm Blade down when the mara flared up was Kafka's spirit whisper but what if being around the reader was also able to calm Blade down for some reason because Blade barely spends any time with the reader unless it's during one of his harsh training sessions and one night the reader decides enough was enough and started packing their stuff but they left behind their lucky weapon (that's your choice) and Blade found it the next morning.

A Cup of Cold Tea

Character : Blade Genre : Angst Disclaimer : The relationship between the reader and Blade will be platonic as stated by the request. a/n : This was my first Request, but it didn't take long for me to find out about the anon sending the same request to most of the HSR writers despite their request was closed. I kept it in my drafts since it would be a waste if i just scrap it all out, not to mention my friend helped me out on this one, so I decided, why not just write the final paragraph and post? Things has been quite rough and busy for me so I'm not done with my hiatus, but I hope you enjoy p.s im sorry if he's ooc here, I don't know his chara well

His blade descends on you, striking downwards in a beautiful arc to cleave your skull.

You dodge within an inch of your life, the after image of his sword burning into your retinas as you fall into a clumsy heap on the floor. Still, you spare no moment for yourself as you scramble up, his sword drawing contact to where you lay as soon as you move.

The minutes blends into hours, time being a concept of little value in the face of Blade's viciousness. It takes everything you have to simply focus on the present, dodging and deflecting when you can. You always stay on the defensive in fights like these; any window you have to strike opens itself for only a millisecond before Blade runs it through clean with his sword.

It makes you wonder how you'd fare if Blade gave it his all. You've seen Blade fight on missions enough times to know that he is much deadlier when he is putting in active effort. In contrast, his movements here are much more sloppy and rabid, fueled only by the unadulterated desire to destroy. It is the madness of his mara in its purest form, though it doesn't make his attacks any less fatal, as proven by the countless wounds that litter your body.

Dead within the first minute, probably, comes the stray thought. It proves to cost you when you earn a gash on your arm, blood spilling freely from your left. You grit your teeth; you need to pay attention. There's never a guarantee for your life when Blade gets like this.

Red spider lilies bloom around you like a garden welcoming death. It sings of carnage, reeking of blood that it greedily consumes, begging for more even if it will eventually wilt away. It feels symbolic, in a way. Out of the two of you, only you are the one who is able to experience true death.

Still, you cannot help but find the blooming sea of red beautiful, even if it is always likely to be your final resting place.

There is a lull in Blade's movements, the manic in his eyes glazing into a dull scarlet as he catches his breath. Immortal he may be, but even he has a limit he will reach. It is a mercy; not only does it signify that his mara has not yet reached a point of no return, it also allows you time to recuperate. Had Blade been given unlimited stamina on top of his self-healing, you would surely have died a long time ago.

Now that the man has tired himself, it is time to bring him back.

"Father," you begin. It comes out as a feeble whisper, your lungs still burning from exertion. Still, you must press on. "Are you okay?"

Blade is silent for a beat, then two. This is fine; you can wait for as long as he needs for your words to reach him. You've gone through this routine enough times to memorize his mannerisms, all of which are currently saying that you are in the clear. So long as his grip on his weapon doesn't tighten again, then you have nothing to be afraid of.

Silence reigns within the room, until you recognize the clarity return to Blade's eyes.

"..You," he grunts, voice hoarse. It's scratchy from his manic screaming and laughter, and you make a mental note to add honey to his tea for his throat.

You nod approvingly. "Yes, Father. Are you okay?" You repeat the question, and this time, Blade manages a sharp nod.

You grin, happy at his answer. You open your mouth to speak again, but Blade cuts you to it. "What happened to your arm?"

The man stares hard at something, and you follow his gaze to find the gash on your left arm. The bleeding has mostly stopped from what you can tell, but it's still an ugly thing to look at. You'll have to wash it soon.

You hum, considering. "It's only a minor cut, Father. I can patch it by myself later."

His eyebrows twitch, his eyes narrowing. "Come," he says simply, walking towards the door.

You let your sword disperse into particles of light before following Blade out of the room. You know there is no arguing with him when he gets like this. Any attempt to reassure him that you can handle yourself will only end with him staring at you with unreadable eyes until you inevitably give in. You're not sure if he does this because he is aware of this fact. Blade doesn't strike you as the type to be attentive to such details, but it's worked every single time, so.

You are both silent as he tends to your wound, cleaning it thoroughly before dutifully bandaging it. Blade even add bandages to the smaller cuts you would've left alone, meticulous in making sure all your wounds are taken care of. You know it is his way to apologize, as he is a silent man who prefers actions in lieu of words. That, and that he's always been awkward when it comes emotions like remorse.

"Get some rest," he says, returning the equipment to the first-aid kit. Blade looks at you, expectant, and it is only when you nod does he leave you alone.

He never calls you by name. It's something that bothered you when you were younger, but it's something you've grown to accept. You're not even certain Blade can recall your name if asked. You know it is his way to cope, to always be prepared for the day when you, too, will leave him. Remembering names are a burden on his soul, so the least you can do is spare him from remembering yours.

Your patience reached its limit. In the dead of night, you quietly packed your belongings and left a note behind. It was brief but carried the weight of your feelings: "I need to find my own path for a while. I hope you understand." You didn't sign it, hoping that the absence itself would convey the message more powerfully.

The moon hung high in the sky as you walked away from the place you called home, your steps determined despite the uncertainty that gnawed at you. You had no plan, no destination in mind. You just knew that you needed time away.

The next morning, Blade woke up to find the room unusually quiet. The absence of the usual sounds—your soft footsteps, the steaming sound of the kettle pot when you made his morning tea—was like a deafening silence. He pushed himself up, his senses alert even before his eyes fully opened. His gaze darted around the room, searching for any sign of your presence.

The sight of your neatly made bed and the note left on the table struck him like a blow. For a moment, he stood frozen, his heart heavy with a mixture of regret and realization. He had been so consumed by his own pursuits that he hadn't noticed the growing distance between you.

His eyes shifted to a corner of the room, where a familiar object caught his attention. There, placed with careful intention, was your lucky weapon. The fiery red blade of the sword gleamed in the soft morning light, its hilt wrapped in supple black leather. The pommel, resembling the closed bud of a red spider lily, held a sense of elegance and balance that echoed the bond between you and Blade.

A pang of guilt and longing gripped Blade's chest as he picked up the sword. The weight of it felt familiar in his hand, a stark reminder of the times he had shared with you. The sword seemed to dance in the air, reflecting both its deadly capabilities and the beauty of its craftsmanship—a reflection of the connection he had with you, one he had been neglecting.

Blade's footsteps were heavy as he left the room, carrying the sword with him. As he went to sit down and process your absence, he noticed a cup of tea placed neatly on the table. The tea, once steaming and fragrant, now languished in its cup, forgotten and neglected. It had been carefully prepared by you before you left, a gesture of concern and care. The faint aroma of the blend, a comforting blend of herbs and warmth, with a hint of honey, still clung to the air around it, a lingering reminder of their intention.

But time had been unkind to the tea, its temperature steadily dropping as it sat abandoned on the table. The steam that had once risen from its surface in delicate tendrils, carrying with it the promise of comfort, had now dissipated into the air. The liquid's once-rich hue had faded slightly, a sign that its vitality was waning, much like the embers of a dying fire.

Blade's eyes fell upon the cup, his gaze drawn to the cold tea that had been left for him. His fingers, calloused from years of wielding the blade, reached out to touch the cup, and he felt the chill radiating from its surface. It was a stark contrast to the warmth he had felt earlier, a reminder of how quickly time could transform something from inviting to forgotten.

As he wrapped his fingers around the cup, he couldn't help but recall the hoarse quality of his voice that had consumed him during their training session. You noticed, as you always did, attuned to the subtleties of his state. The touch of honey they had added was a balm for his throat, a gesture that had been both practical and considerate.

Blade's throat tightened with an emotion he couldn't quite name. The cold tea before him held within it layers of meaning—your concern, your attempt to provide comfort, and a reminder of his own shortcomings.

Regret gnawed at his insides, twisting and churning with every breath he took. Guilt clawed at his conscience, tearing through the facade of indifference he had so carefully crafted. Loneliness engulfed him like a suffocating cloak, reminding him of the void left in your absence. And yet, beneath it all, there flickered a tiny ember of hope—a glimmer of redemption, a chance to right the wrongs he had committed.

Blade couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of despair that threatened to consume him whole. For in that moment, he realized that the hardest battle he would ever face was not against his enemies, but against the demons of his own making—the ones that whispered of his failures and shortcomings, echoing relentlessly in the caverns of his heart.

[vendoramachine]

open robe pt. 1

velvet x fem pop star reader

i think we were absolutely robbed from seeing vel in a robe, so eat up 💜

notes : fluff, mild/light cussing

the mornings after shows are always the worst. your throat is always sore from singing all night, your muscles are tired from the intense choreographies, and overall, you just feel like crap. in the moment, everything is great. you hit that high note, you landed that backflip, and your fans love you. post-concert exhaustion is a musician’s equivalent to a hangover.

i groaned as i tossed around in my bed, staring up at my ceiling like i could see the heavens. last night was insane. i was the opening act for velvet and veneer, my two favorite people on the face of this planet. weakly, i picked up my phone from my nightstand. the screen lit up, it’s brightness burning my retina.

veneer and i were best friends during our childhood, so when the two announced that their plans to start their careers in music, i was a tad doubtful. those two couldn’t hold a note if a gun was being held to their foreheads. i admit, their success was a little suspicious, but i just figured that their voices had matured and gotten better over time. in fact, they inspired me to become an artist as well, and they helped promote me and my music.

opening up my messages app, i texted the person who was on my mind 24/7; velvet.

“hey vel 🤗 we did so good last night!!!! i had so much fun, thanks for letting me open up for u and veneer 💟” my thumb clicked the send button. it was 8 a.m. and i didn’t expect velvet nor veneer to be awake, especially not after that hell of a night. i sat up in my bed, attempting to stretch the exhaustion from my muscles and rub the tiredness from my eyelids.

every fiber of my being told me to take it easy today, but where’s the fun in that if i’m not with my girlfriend? resting in bed all day without her just makes me feel like a lonely person. i forced myself out of bed to brush my teeth, take a shower, and eat breakfast.

as i finished chewing the last bite of my waffles with damp hair and a soft, velvety robe wrapped around me, it was now 11 a.m. i checked my phone, and still no response.

“wow, that girl must be knocked out.” i chuckled to myself, opening veneer’s contact and calling him. it took a few rings for him to pick up, but something about his hoarse voice and dim room told me that i had accidentally woken him up.

“what do you want?” he huffed, sass in his strained voice.

“good morning to you too, veneer.” i scoffed, making him roll his eyes and smirk playfully.

“okay, okay, sorry. good morning, y/n, what could you possibly need that was worth waking me up?”

“rude, but i was wondering if vel-“

“can’t you just call her instead?” veneer cut me off. jeez, where are this guy’s manners?

“i don’t want to wake her up. also, if i did wake her up, she’d be mad at me all day; don’t you know anything about your sister?”

“oh, whatever. come over, otherwise velvet and i will literally sleep all day. we need your motivation to get up.” say less. i hung up before he could speak another word.

time skip cause i’m lazy lmfao 💁‍♀️

i rang the doorbell to their giant house, and veneer talked to me through the doorbell.

“the door’s open, girl.” i shrugged and walked right in. wandering through the halls, i saw my girlfriend’s brother sitting at the kitchen table with his robe.

“hey, i’m on the phone with ritz.” veneer perked up, blushing angrily once he noticed that i was joking. hilarious. i sat down on the chair beside him, noticing the absence of my girlfriend’s presence.

“i don’t understand why you don’t just ask him out already.” i stole a grape from his breakfast plate.

“easy for you to say, my sister made the first move on you. i’m just waiting for him to do the same. if he wants to, he will.”

“please, that’s only because velvet is way too prideful to let someone make the first move on her. she would literally rather die. in your case, however, both you and ritz are shy, embarrassing messes. you just lack your sister’s confidence, ven.” i teased, veneer hit my arm with the back of his hand. his pathetic attempts to hide his smile just made the situation funnier.

“you’re so annoying. i don’t get how vel tolerates you.” he forcefully refused to let the muscles on his cheeks upturn into a smile.

“you couldn’t even bother to change before coming over here?” veneer attempted to switch the subject, no longer wanting to talk about his pretty-much boyfriend.

“hey, you can’t come at my robe when you’re wearing one too.” the sound of a door opening behind us made my face light up.

“hanging out without me? how rude.” velvet commented. my head whipped around. her hair was messy, and her robe was wide open, the strings hanging loosely by her sides. she wore nothing underneath her robe besides her shorts and a bra. oh. my. god.

[sigloverofwords]

let me wrap my teeth around the world

An Astarion x spawn!Tav fanfic

Series warnings: violence, injury, abuse, self injury, suicidal ideation, animal death, rape (past), ptsd, emotional abuse, physical abuse, mental abuse, scars, panic attacks, manipulation, transformations

Summary: You awake at the nautiloid crash, wounded and starving but free of your Master for the first time in your life. You’re determined to get as far away from Him as possible, and finally get some answers about your existence. Fortunately for you, you stumble upon another spawn. Unfortunately he doesn’t seem to want anything to do with you.

Your ability to transform into a monster quickly changes his mind, though.

Posted to AO3 first!

Author’s Note: this is a y/n-free second person slow burn hurt eventual comfort fic. Lots of heavy stuff addressed, please take care of yourself and don’t read if any of the warning subjects are triggering to you.

2k+ word chapters

Chapter 1 (next)

Your head throbs with a deep-seated pain that feels like a hand squeezing your eyes from within. For a moment, that sensation is the only thing that you're capable of being aware of — the pain that washes out the rest of the world and paints everything with blinding, nauseating red.

Then, slowly, the rest of your senses return. The red fades to yellows and oranges with a halo of black around the edge: light beaming through your eyelids to assault your retinas. Acrid smoke stabs into your sinuses, making itself known along with the coppery stench of blood and something else that just smells…wrong. Your mouth is dry, your tongue sitting heavily in your mouth, dried over with a thin layer of blood. Your own? You hope.

Heat flickers erratically over one side of your face, and a moment later you're able to place the crackle of flames as one of the sounds assaulting your senses.

You become aware of the rest of your body, outside of your pounding head.

You're sprawled out on a firm, fleshy surface, the grit of sand digging into your cheek and nose. Everything, and you're sure you mean everything, hurts.

The heat grows stronger and you force your eyes open a crack. Your eyelids stick together, unwilling to be parted for a moment, but through a web of dried fluid and shadowy eyelashes you see dancing flames creep closer to you.

Part of you begins debating the benefits of closing your eyes and ignoring the fire until the flames or smoke inhalation take you. You ignore it.

With sharp, painful jabs of protest from each and every muscle, you force yourself to roll over to your front. You plant your hands, simultaneously hyper aware of the individual grains of sand digging into your palms and unable to focus on any one sensation due to the overload of stimulation you're undergoing. You give yourself one wheezing, smoky breath, and push.

Distantly you recognize that you made it to your hands and knees, said knees very unhappy about their sudden use, but you keep pushing. Almost robotically, you stagger to your feet. Something warm and wet starts to soak into your side. Eyes still closed, you lift an arm and press your hand to your ribs. The familiar aching protest of bruised and cracked bone, and burn of an open wound, seem almost comforting. This is pain you're familiar with, you understand.

Finally, you grit your teeth and open your eyes once more.

Searing, flickering firelight floods your view, washing everything out momentarily before your eyesight can adjust. All around you a structure of rubbery bruise-purple and flesh-pink burns, platforms groaning and collapsing around you. It takes you far longer than you would like to wade through the various fear and horror responses to find a coherent thought.

I need to get out of here.

Your lungs are barely working as is, and your shortened breaths certainly don't help your struggling oxygen supply (or your injured ribs).

After a brief moment of pure panic, you feel your mind clamp down.

You've been through worse, you tell yourself firmly. Figure it out.

Forcing your breaths to slow, you turn in a slow circle. Smoke obscures your vision and the pain in your head is causing little bursts of bright white light to appear randomly in your field of view, but you push through it.

Something isn't sitting right with you.

Besides, well, all of it.

You look down at your hand, which is scraped and bloody, and you see it.

Sand.

From the rumors you'd heard, mind flayer ships flew. Why would one have sand on it?

Another careful survey of your surroundings and you spot it: a rend in the fleshy wall behind you, near the bottom. The sand must have gotten in there when the ship plowed into the ground. Throat closing with hope and smoke, you drop to your hands and knees and crawl to the tear. It's awkwardly positioned, but looks just big enough for you, so you lay on your stomach and try to peer through.

Your heart drops. Outside, bright sunlight streams down onto a rugged coastal cliff.

A cough strangles your throat, smoke stinging your airways as the fire creeps closer. Screwing your eyes shut, you stick a trembling hand through the tear, exposing it to the sun, hoping against hope that the ship provides enough shelter to keep you from going up in flames immediately. For a nauseating second you think the pain is so intense that your nerves have given out and you can't even feel the skin peeling and flaking off your arm, but after a long moment you steel yourself and open your eyes.

You're fine.

Your arm is fully intact.

Your skin is whole, unmarred by burns. It's even warming in the sunlight.

Unable to fully process this information, you start frantically scrambling forward, forcing yourself through the narrow tear. The edges of your clothes catch and rip, but you barely even notice. Mind reeling, you flop onto the sandy ground outside. You're panting with exertion, covered in fresh scrapes, and hacking a cough out every other breath, but you're alive and bathed in sunlight somewhere that very much seems like the Sword Coast.

For a moment you just lay there, salty breeze soothing your inflamed airways, hardy grass tickling your arms, sun, beautiful, wonderful sun covering you in it's gentle warmth, but then you force yourself up once more.

If you survived that meant others may have as well. Others that may include mind flayers, which would be a less than ideal situation to run into, especially in your current, weakened state. You need to put as much distance between you and the crash as possible and find a healer before infection starts to set in and the tadpole in your head eats away what's left of your humanity. You need to figure out how the hell you can stand in the sun without burning to ash. You need to run, far and fast.

Despite feeling the warmth of the sun for the first time in decades, a chill runs over your skin. This sudden freedom you’re experiencing comes with its downsides, but anything is better than being under the sway of you master.

Still clutching your side, crusty with blood and sand, you stumble up the hill.

Movement in your peripheral draws your attention, but you're too slow, pain dulling your reaction speed, mind swirling with too much information, too many possibilities. In a pale blur, a figure charges you out of the bushes, the flash of a knife glinting in the sun. The next thing you know you're slamming into the rocky ground, all air forced from your lungs and your ribs shrieking in protest. A strangled exclaimation escapes you before you can clamp your mouth shut.

No! Your mind screams, and you suddenly feel on the verge of tears as you try to roll to your feet. Not this close to freedom. Not now!

Desperate, you try to push away the figure holding you down, but the pinch of a blade at your neck quickly stills your struggles. A silky voice speaks lowly by your ear, turning your stomach.

"Shh, stay still," he says. "I saw you on the ship, didn't I?"

You try to look at him out of the corner of your wide, frightened eyes. He’s a pale elf, clothed in patched up finery, with a steady hand and deadly crimson eyes. When you don't answer immediately his voice hardens.

"Nod," he orders. You do, careful against the blade.

"Good girl."

The words are practically a purr. You swallow, and for a moment you're afraid even that small movement will draw blood.

"Now you're going to tell me what you and those tentacled freaks did to me."

“I didn’t do anything—”

This answer is clearly not what he’s looking for. He scowls, lip curling in a sneer and revealing a flash of familiar fang.

A vampire, just like you. Somehow freed from the night just in time to drag you back into shadow.

It’s all just too much.

This time you can’t stop the tears from welling in your eyes as you stare at the fangs.

“Are you one of His?” you ask in a quiet, broken voice, eyes stinging and heart heavy as lead in your chest. “Are you here to take me back?”

The anger on the other vampire’s face is quickly replaced by confusion.

“What? No. I don’t even know you!”

He sounds offended at the insinuation that you may move in the same circles.

You close your eyes, a single tear escaping your lashes to clear a path though the smoke and grime on your cheek.

You don’t see the elf frown at it, gaze following its track down to your chin, where he spots the scarred puncture wounds in your neck.

The blade at your neck disappears but you remain limp on the ground. For this moment, you give up.

Maybe your master had decided you’re not worth the effort anymore, maybe he ordered this spawn to dispatch you. Instead, after no blade slits your throat or stake caves in your chest, you look up to watch the elf roll to his feet and sheathe his knife. When he speaks, his tone is distant and haughty.

“You’d best start running, little vamp,” he says, his back turned to you. His shoulders are tense. “It’s not often spawn get away from their masters.”

The words are heavy with the weight of personal knowledge.

Sniffing, you scramble to your feet, brushing uselessly at your ripped skirt to avoid looking at the other spawn.

Your moment of weakness and surrender passes, and you gather the tatters of your strength around you once more.

“You— are you like me?” you ask in a small voice, eyes glued to the ground.

“No,” he snaps instantly. “You’re clearly an overemotional weakling, and I have places to be.”

Although your tears don’t dry, you feel yourself steel in quiet rage.

You endure torture for years, enough to break anyone, not even allowed to end your own life, and this…this man assaults you and insults you?

Despite the horror your master had inflicted on you, he had given you one gift.

Every full vampire has something they are particularly gifted in, whether it be charm and deception, arcana, or even performance and languages. They pass this gift onto their spawn, sometimes in small doses, sometime in a rush of power they can’t control.

Your master had overwhelmed you with his gift of monstrosity, and you draw on it now.

The pain that you usually feel when you transform is nothing compared to your white-hot indignation and need to lash out.

How dare he. How dare he.

Even your master had learned, long ago, that you were not a girl to be dismissed, not someone to turn your back on.

Your limbs elongate, nails stretching and hardening into black talons. Your teeth all sharpen into deadly fangs, your eyes flood with red for a moment as they change, becoming fully crimson. You can feel your bones pushing against your skin as it constricts, each bump of your spine straining, skin tightening until it feels like it’s about to split. It’s honestly a relief when your skin rips, spikes pushing through where each vertebrae sits.

The elf is walking away, but his step hesitates at the sound of cracking bone. Slowly, he glances over his shoulder, and whatever blood he had drains at the sight of you.

Your hair, singed and bedraggled, hangs in limp strands around your face as you take one step towards him. You’re seeing double, disoriented by a taller point of view, with everything bathed in red, and your too-long tongue sits awkwardly behind unfamiliar teeth, but you can tell you cut a terrifying image by the stumbling step the elf tries to take away from you.

“Don’t. Move.” you order, your voice scratchy and hoarse, lower than it was. You feel a thrill of power when he freezes.

“You are a vampire spawn, like me?”

You phrase it as a question, but before he can answer you reach out with a too-long arm, one talon resting on his doublet, right over his heart. A few threads of embroidery snap with a brush.

“Nod,” you say. He does.

“Who is your sire?”

You try and keep the fear out of your voice. If you share the same master, if he is under compulsion to find you…well, despite how it appears, you’re not looking to kill anyone right now. You just want, no, need answers. Answers that another spawn can give you.

“Cazador Szarr,” he answers, unable to keep a hateful sneer from flickering across his face.

You almost collapse in relief.

Not the same sire.

“You are not under compulsion?” you ask. Your limbs ache: a pain deep as bone marrow, unescapable, unignorable. You only have another minute or two before you have to release the hold you have on this form.

“No,” he replies. “I don’t know how, I don’t know how I can walk in the sun or be free from his orders.”

“You have places to be,” you say, voice starting to shake with the effort of maintaining your form. The red haze over your eyes is beginning to darken at the edges. “Where? What are you doing, where are you going?”

The elf’s jaw clenches as he reluctantly gives up his plans.

“I need a healer, then I’m going back to Baldur’s Gate to kill Cazador.”

“Good.”

You drop your arm from his chest. The extra length allows you to rest it on the ground, supporting yourself almost like a four-legged creature.

“You will take me with you,” you say. You start to sway. The darkness at the edge of your vision creeps closer.

Before he can reply the darkness slams shut and you crumple to the ground, unconscious.

Astarion blinks as the girl—creature? — suddenly collapses. Her monstrous form fades in an instant, and she transforms almost immediately from the stuff of nightmares to the weak, useless thing she was before. His mind reels, taking in her small body.

He had heard rumors, of course, of the vampires of Neverwinter. It was a horrid, cold, backwards place in the north, somewhere he and the other Baldurians spoke of with disdain when it was spoken of at all. It was said the Vampire Lord there was cruel and powerful in ways even Cazador had to admire. The Szarr-sired spawn were “gifted” with beauty and persuasion, the ability to lure most humans to their side with a few honeyed words. It was an ability Astarion had in spades as a mortal, and becoming a Szarr-spawn only made him more irresistible - a fact that Cazador abused relentlessly.

The Neverwinter Lord, though…he was a horrific beast of a man, his spawn few and far between, more frightening bedtime tale than actual beings.

There is no doubt in the elf’s mind as he looks down at the unconscious girl. She is a spawn of Durva Szörn, the Vampire Lord of Neverwinter.

A smile slips across his lips, and for the first time since waking in the sun, Astarion feels hopeful.

With a Durva spawn by his side he can strike fear into the heart of even Cazador Szarr. She could prove a powerful weapon, if he can just keep her leashed.

Crouching, he gathers the bundle of filthy fabric and broken girl into his arms. She doesn’t stir, and he hopes she didn’t do something stupid like kill herself with that transformation.

She’s lighter than he expects, and he starts to pick his way around the wreckage of the mind flayer ship. She wants to go to Baldur’s Gate? Very well. Astarion is happy to oblige.

[deadvnstudios]

hellooooo fools paradise team:3c i am STILL stuck on the valentines day post LOL & so im curious: what would the romanceables valentines day plans with the MC be? or similarly/alternatively what would their ideal date be in general? 

“Darling, it’s already nine! While I adore your resting face, I’d prefer to be the very first thing your bright eyes happen upon this special morning.”

Ever the romantic, Mona takes Valentine’s to its extreme. Before you’ve even awoken, she’s already matched your outfits for the day, intent for there to be splashes of pink, white, and red adorning you both from head to toe. Breakfast in bed is a must, and though you fear for your tastebuds - she follows the recipe. Flowers, chocolates, cards, gifts - anything you can imagine awaits you once you finally rise from your cell of slumber. After all, this is your perfect day and Mona’s already planned dinner and a murder party for you to solve together as you dine. In the evening, after you’ve had your fill, you’ll attend a couple’s painting class. Though she could instruct herself, she follows protocol, delighting in the shared drinks you two split and the paint spills you mark each other with.

“Oh…this? I painted it because it’s your favorite animal…right?”

Starting with a nice long walk around the park with his partner is an ideal start for Noel. Valentine’s isn’t about grand gestures, or trying to outdo one another. It’s about remembering the pleasure of each other’s comfort that tethered you two to begin with. However, something handmade from him to you isn’t off the table. The day will pass without hurry, the two of you spending hours at a local craft cafe, sampling treats and putting together trinkets for one another. When your crafts come to a close, you’ll pack up and pick-up some takeout that you’ll share while cuddling on the couch back home.

“Holy shit…my retinas are burning just looking at it. It’s perfect.”

Valentine’s, being a commercial holiday, is nothing more than an obvious capitalist scheme to Mary. So, why not indulge in the shopping fever to win over each other’s favor? Mary corrals you into an hour long shopping spree to start, the two of you picking out gifts secretly to surprise each other with later in the evening. Along the way, she’ll demand a fashion show…or a few, the two of you parading down the aisles in glitzy and gaudy outfits meant to shock any who pass your path. When the two of you are eventually kicked out, the two of you will rush home to find that Mary has planned an indoor picnic just for you. The rest of the night passes quickly as you feed each other treats, and take turns thinking about what kind of future you’d like to build together.

“Woah…almost feels like they based that riddle on us! Isn’t that strange?”

Vein + Valentine’s = flirtatious fun! There’s no better way to prove the strength of your relationship than putting it to the test in an Escape Room challenge Vein booked for the two of you. Expecting the space cowboy theme to come to a natural conclusion, you’re surprised that some of the clues needed to find the final prize involve riddles centered around your relationship and inside jokes. Though you press Vein, her lips are sealed. That is, until you find the final prize: a commissioned portrait of the two of you in your favorite game. To celebrate your victory thereafter, Vein takes you to her favorite local pizza joint. After all, you’ll need the energy for the arcade tonight. It’ll be an all out race to see who can win the grandest prize for the other.

“C’mon, sway with me.”

Valentine’s is guaranteed to be a late start for the two of you - and quite honestly you’d be lucky if Tempest opened his eyes before noon. But whenever he should manage to rise and conquer the day, Tempest is determined take you to a concert of your favorite artist that night. But if the date line-up isn’t in the cards, you can be damn sure he aims to surprise you good with the tickets at the dinner table. The dinner itself is relaxed, dim lit with a band in the back where you two can shoot the can. But when you’ve both had enough, you’ll stroll around the city, touring your favorite haunts, ending up at a pub at the end of the night, tipsy dancing to the songs playing through the speaker as you play pool and darts.

“Must we leave our sheets with such haste? I am but the moon, unready to separate from the sun who warms it.”

The virtues of Valentine’s are not lost on Sorin, nor the reason the holiday itself was created. But Sorin doesn’t yield to the standard expectations of the consumerism. There isn’t any need for showiness, time spent in your company is satisfying enough. The day will be spent indoor with activities Sorin has already prepared for the two of you. Cooking together, dancing to your shared songs, and cracking open a candle painting kit are just snippets of all they have planned for the two of you. The night ends, however, with the most elaborate surprise of all — a scavenger hunt, You search the halls of your hall, following the train of notes left by your love. When you finally reach the end, you happen upon a box filled to the brim with poems and other writings Sorin has penned to you.

[karniss-bg3]

Thank you so much for fulfilling my request! It was so well written, I've already reread it a few times today lol. I imagine a followup writing request to that (if you wanted to) could be a lovely comfort time of Tav patching up Kar'niss in the morning after they both get some well deserved rest. Thanks again!

[Part 2 of this post.]

[Music]

The melodic chirping of birds filtered into Tav’s ears, morning breaking over the encampment. They could feel the pulse of a headache coming on after an uneasy night of rest. The events of the prior evening were still fresh in their mind playing over and over on a loop. Their eyes opened, staring at the ceiling of their tent, pondering what steps to take next. The first priority was to make sure Kar’niss was still doing well and after that play it by ear.

They rose from their bed roll and exited the tent, stumbling into the sunlight which assaulted their eyes making them burn. Nearby their companions had gathered around the camp fire to sort out breakfast, preparing for the long road ahead. Kar’niss was not among them. Tav frowned and wandered over to the edge of camp, spotting the boulder they’d left Kar’niss sleeping on the night before. His perch had been abandoned, streaks of dried blood peppered over the uneven surface. The blanket and pillow had also been left behind in a haphazard pile suggesting Kar’niss had moved sometime recently.

“Did anyone see where Kar’niss went?” Tav asked.

“Yes,” Laezel replied. “The spider-kin stirred just before dawn and retreated into the forest. I did not give chase, he did not seem to require aid.”

Tav rubbed the back of their neck, a slow exhale soon following. “Thank you. Give me a few moments, I want to check on him.”

Tav went to work. First, they retrieved a bucket and filled it to the brim with water from the nearby river. Then they collected medical supplies, a cloth, and their flute, placing them in their pack. Once the satchel was hoisted over their shoulder they lifted the bucket by the rope handle and wandered into the treeline after the drider.

They wouldn’t need to search long especially with the light of day keeping the area moderately lit. They came across a massive nest of webbing spanning across several trees, an intricate weave of thick silk lines that made a wall of white just ahead of them. Nearby Tav could see a deer carcass, it’s body drained of it’s fluids to the point it’s flesh wrinkled and caved in on itself. At least he’d been fed, Tav thought. They placed the bucket down and peered up into the branches in search of their quarry, squinting when rays of sun pierced their retinas from time to time. That was when they spotted it. A round dome of webbing stretched over heavy branches formed a cocoon-like dome with a single entrance near the tree itself. While Tav couldn’t see Kar’niss directly they did spy the very tip of his legs poking out of the doorway, suggesting he had nestled himself tightly into the space in an effort to hide and protect himself.

What concerned them were the noises they heard, quiet but audible. A low, thrumming click generated by Kar’niss’ throat suggested he was in pain. It was akin to a steady purr but by no means positive in pitch.

“Kar’niss? It’s Tav. Are you alright?”

They could hear shuffling from above, the drider seemingly backing up more into their nest. “Go away,” he hissed in frustration.

Tav frowned at his dismissal, their arms moving to cross over their chest. They began to tap their foot as their lips pressed into a thin line. “I can’t help you if you’re up there and I am down here. Please?”

Kar’niss didn’t respond, retreating deeper into his webbing. Tav took in a steady breath while rubbing over one of their arms. They wandered over to the tree, reaching out to feather their fingertips over the web, admiring how sticky and soft the adhesive silk was. They turned around and leaned back against the exposed portion of the tree, their shoulders taking on a slump while their mind was hard at work on a solution. Several moments of silence passed, the quiet drifting breeze mingled with Kar’niss’ labored breathing the only sound to be heard. Tav closed their eyes and exhaled firmly.

“I know you’re afraid. If you want to know the twisted truth of it, we all are. Everyone here has something to lose, or something they are running from. They put on a brave face because they have to, it’s the only thing keeping them from falling apart. But most importantly, none of us would’ve been able to make this journey alone. We may not always agree or get along but we are all working toward the same goal; Freedom.” Tav rubbed at their weary eyes, their palms sliding across their face until their fingertips coiled against the tip of their chin. “I don’t know everything that has happened to you but the thing is I don’t need to. I can tell you’ve endured endless horrors, seen things you wish you hadn’t, suffered unspeakable torture. You don’t have to suffer your burdens alone, Kar’niss. Not anymore. If you’ll let me I can help you but I can’t do that if you hide from me. I gain nothing by hurting you.”

Tav could hear some light movement above them but they opted not to look up to avoid spooking the uneasy drider. “At least come down and let me clean the blood off, patch up the worst of the wounds. That way you can heal and regain your strength.” They’d pause, their gaze dropping to the matted grass beneath their feet. “If I wanted you dead I had the perfect opportunity to make that happen last night. You were vulnerable, unhinged, distracted. I didn’t hurt you though, did I?”

Kar’niss’ front legs jutted from the doorway of the cocoon, his head peeking out to peer down at Tav. “No,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Tav turned around to peer up at him, finally able to see the one he’d grown familiar with along their journey. “Then I think you owe me at least this much. Come down.” They lifted an arm and extended their hand in Kar’niss’ direction.

He eyed the hand with an air of skepticism, mulling over all that had been said. Eventually he crawled his way out of the elevated burrow, climbing his way down the tree. Tav stepped back to make room, able to finally assess the damage up close. Kar’niss was battered and bruised, particularly his face. His rounded abdomen at the back had a crack in the chitin from where he forcefully backed into a tree. Dried blood was caked in his hair while red splotches were present over his face and chest. Tav looked over his body and scowled in concern.

“Lower your body down so I can reach, please.”

The drider hesitantly complied, their long legs curled into sharp points at the joints either side of him. Tav retrieved the cloth and dipped it into the water bucket, wringing it out before returning to him. “This may sting a little but it is only temporary.” Tav cupped Kar’niss’ chin with one hand while the other guided the moist cloth over his face to clean away the blood smears. He flinched in response actively leaning away out of instinct but Tav did not chide him for this. Instead they waited for him to calm so they could resume.

“We do not understand why you do this for us,” Kar’niss said. His eyes watched Tav’s face as if expecting deception in their reply.

Tav hummed in thought while cleaning off his face. “Because I want to. But if you require something with more depth, I do this because I’m betting no one else ever has. It’s really no bother to me if that is your worry. Everyone deserves positive attention, yourself included.”

He blinked, perplexed by the reply. He didn’t seem to understand the statement or at the very least had a hard time accepting it. “We find this behavior strange. But if it appeases you then do what you must.”

Tav chuckled and looked up at him. “It does appease me. Now hold still please.”

They finished cleaning off his face which revealed the half healed claw marks etched across his face. Tav retrieved a bottle of salve, uncorking the cap in order to apply the white paste over the scratch marks etched into his cheeks.

“How long did it take you to build all of this webbing?” Tav asked.

“A few hours,” Kar’niss murmured. He squirmed a little as the salve was applied but did his best to stay still. “It is fortunate there are many trees so close together. It makes weaving less complicated.”

Tav smiled. “It’s beautiful work, I must admit. Intimidating, but beautiful all the same.”

“Those caught in it would not agree,” Kar’niss said.

“I suppose not. I am glad I am not one of them.”

Once satisfied his facial wounds were treated, they moved around to inspect the crack in the chitin over the spider abdomen. They ran their fingers over the hardened surface, able to feel how rough and bumpy the texture was. In truth it was fascinating to them but they didn’t want to gawk.

“Leave it,” Kar’niss said. “It will close in its own time.”

They heard what he said but still found themselves gently petting over the curvature along the surface, feeling every imperfection along the way. They leaned over to peer curiously at his spinnerets which were barely visible beneath the stinger on his tail end.

“Amazing,” they whispered.

Kar’niss’ backside wiggled and his legs shuffled beneath him. “Stop staring.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to be rude. I’m just a bit curious I suppose. I’ve never seen someone like you before.”

The drider grunted and crab walked to the side, his arms crossed over his chest. “We are an abomination. We are drider.” His tone was stiff and irritated, averting his eyes from Tav completely.

The adventurer chuckled and stepped in front of him, seeking to find his gaze and meet it. “You are a drider, but you are no abomination. If I’m lucky someday you might deign me with a tour of your branch burrow. It looks cozy.”

Kar’niss tipped his head to the side with a hint of confusion, his nostrils flaring in a sharp exhale. “Perhaps…”

“Mm I will need to clean out your hair but I will do so once the salve has set. For now I think you’re in better shape and that is a relief. Thank you for allowing me to help.” Tav paused as a thought dawned on them. “One more thing. If...you start to hear those voices again and they become too much, seek me out. Night or day it doesn’t matter. We might have a chance to cut them off at the pass before you seek to harm yourself. I’d rather try than just stand by and let it happen. Does that sound good?”

Kar’niss rubbed at one of his arms, his pedipalps pulled taut against his lower half. “Yes...we can agree to this.”

“Good, I’m grateful. Now get some rest. If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask.”

Tav picked up the bucket, the water within a murky color from the dried blood and dirt. At least Kar’niss looked far better than when Tav found them and his pained purring had ceased. They left the area to return Kar’niss’ solitude to him, leaving the drider alone to think. He scaled the tree and returned to his silken cocoon, crawling inside to get comfortable. He reached up and touched over the sticky salve on his face, noticing how it reduced the burn of the scratch marks and brought him some ease. He thought over everything Tav said and a lot of it stuck out. But when he thought about it deeper he realized they were right. No one had ever done this for him before. Not in the Underdark, not in Moonrise, no where. What did this mean?

It left him with a whole host of feelings he didn’t understand or know how to process. Did this mean he could trust Tav? Had he finally found a place where abuse and belittling wouldn’t strike from around every corner? Experience told him that it was all a ruse, a falsehood surely to be revealed in time. Yet for the first time he could recall a new voice was starting to form in his mind. Not one born of Lolth’s cruelty nor of the Absolute’s control. This was different, new, and it was saying something he didn’t expect.

Do something for Tav.

His eyes widened, startled. Repaying a kindness? It was a novel concept and one he didn’t consider before. Perhaps because kindness was a word foreign to him, much less being on the receiving end. It begged the question, what could he possibly do in return? He had nothing of value and most of his talents were based on combat. Most, but not all. He took in a sharp breath, a eureka moment hitting him, nodding to affirm his decision to himself. He would do it.

The day wore on and Tav had left with Astarion, Wyll and Shadowheart to scout ahead. They ran into a few battles along the way but managed to return to camp in the evening with little injuries to report. Gale went to work starting dinner while the others gathered around to compare the loot they’d obtained, the atmosphere generally upbeat which was a nice change of pace.

Tav wandered over to their tent to change out of their dirty clothes, looking forward to relaxing after an exhausting day. Yet when they slid inside they noticed something unusual resting on their pillow. Upon closer inspection it looked almost like a doll but woven in a strange way. They picked it up to get a better look, noticing the material used was sticky to the touch. Was this...webbing? The item had two outstretched arms and two legs, similar to a gingerbread man in shape. Sticks were used as a skeleton underneath the weave so it maintained its shape, the web tightly wound around and around until it formed a solid base. Leaves and grass were glued on to represent clothes with two tiny pebbles squished into the head to form eyes. It was then that Tav realized this was meant to represent themselves. Not a perfect likeness but damn close for the limited resources the maker had to work with. Tav’s lower lip quivered once the realization hit, their heart squeezing within their chest. They sat cross-legged on their bed roll and smiled, bringing the make-shift doll to their chest so they could hug it close. It was the greatest gift they could’ve ever received, especially knowing where it came from. They didn’t move from that spot, hoarding the gift as if it were the most grand treasure known to man.

“Thank you, my dear Kar’niss.”

[hellsite-detective]

could you find the post featuring an odd billboard that says “I’m concerned about the blueberries,” if you’ve got the time?

I’m afraid I don’t have any usernames to go off of, but one of the reblogs also said, “and now, the weather,” if it helps.

when this request came across my desk, it was like my mind had been infected by some extradimensional parasite. the phrase just kept permeating throughout my brain. i thought maybe the only way i could get it to go away was by solvin' the case, so that's what i would try...

...i'm concerned about the blueberries...

as i walked down the street, i saw the neon glow of the Search Bar sign up ahead. but, it didn't read "the Search Bar" like it normally did. instead it echoed a haunting phrase that burned into my retinas, like my very perception of existence. the bright neon sign now read "I'm Concerned About The Blueberries." i needed to get to the bottom of this fast...

enterin' the bar, all was normal except for the smell. normally it would smell of alcohol and cigars, but today... blueberries. nothing but blueberries. even i was startin' to get concerned about them. i walked up to Google and quickly demanded for the tumblr post referencin' the phase. they slid me the post rather quickly, along with a napkin. on the napkin was a quickly scrawled note that read:

"Don't say anything. I've been seein' it too..."

terrified now, i grabbed the post and rushed through the streets of the city, tryin' to get back to my office. every sign throughout the city read the same thing now. every person wanderin' the streets repeated the phrase. they weren't walkin' anymore. they were all watchin' me, starin' at me. followin' me. every one of them chantin' as if inside my head, growin' louder and louder...

...i'm concerned about the blueberries...

...i'm concerned about the blueberries...

...i'm concerned about the blueberries...

I'M CONCERNED ABOUT THE--

i rushed into my office, slammed the door shut, and filed the post away. and all in a moment, the noise ceased. nothin' but silence. it was all over...

here you are! i'd recommend bein' careful with this one, i think it may be somethin' stronger than we're aware of. have a great day!

Post Case: Closed

[alovesreading]

well, first of all, happy birthday Ella!!! and happy international women’s day!!!

as promised, here is a little teaser of what is Constant Repeat chapter 19 so far! it’s a bit unhinged and i’m literally rushing to post this and hiding my phone at work lolll (yes! a bitch got a job!!) but i hope you enjoy it!

thank you for being the best, so patient and understanding. love you all lots! 🤍🤍🤍

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

There was never a moment when Alex wasn’t on the phone to Ella during the time the band was away from tour after they got together. In the tour bus, before boarding a plane, in the greenroom before and after a show. It was a miracle to even get Alex to put down his phone for soundcheck and more often than not, it was because Breana would be the one to record videos to send Ella or FaceTime the director herself so Alex could concentrate on what he was supposed to do.

It was honestly kind of disturbing to see Alex using his phone so often. The lads had definitely been teasing him over and over for not being able to leave Ella alone—to that, Alex always rolled his eyes and actually refuted them by saying he did leave her alone when she was working and couldn’t use her phone on set.

“Melt,” Matt would say after a snort when Alex would pout at his phone screen when Ella couldn’t pick up the phone or hadn’t answered one of his texts yet.

But it was days like those when Ella couldn’t stay on her phone for most of the day due to work that she would sneak into a bathroom and send him pictures she had hidden away in her phone just for him.

Like one of the first ones he got when she had been shooting an advert and she’d managed to sneak away from her responsibilities during her very short lunch break and sent him a picture she took of herself on the mirror with one of the lacy little things she had gotten for herself when she went shopping with Katie.

Alex, who was slowly sipping his beer while lazily sitting on the corner of the lounge, choked when he got a notification from Ella and opened it to a very explicit photo of her.

His eyes were wide and he couldn’t stop coughing, and he locked his phone fairly quickly when seeing everyone’s attention on him, but the picture was burned into his retinas and he needed to leave the room—his jeans started feeling too constricted.

“You alright mate?” someone asked.

The singer didn’t even have the mind to focus on who was speaking to him, he just nodded his head as he tried to calm down. Once he got his breath back, he added, “Yes, erm…”

His trailing off was met with silence since everyone wanted an explanation for his sudden coughing fit. Nosy bunch the lot of them really.

“Yeah, fine,” Alex clarified, and without leaving room for their curiosity to continue growing, he jumped off his seat and left the room with a quick, “Excuse me.”

He ran to his bunk so quickly, almost smashing his head open when he hastily climbed into his bed and closed the curtain. Unlocking his phone and getting to see the picture again left him breathless.

Ella was sitting on the floor of her room right in front of her massive mirror, burgundy lingerie set on. He had been instantly caught by the look of her tits almost spilling out of the see-through lace bra she had on, just now he was noticing that she was using the hand she wasn’t holding her phone with to shove aside her underwear and had a finger teasing her entrance.

You’re cruel, he texted back as he fumbled to undo his belt with one hand. I’m so tempted to buy you a ticket and have you in this bunk with me right now xxxxx

Alex was teasing himself over his boxers when Ella’s response came through, Made a mess already? That’s quicker than I expected ;) xxx

Squeezing himself one last time, he shoved down the fabric of his boxers and let his cock spring out. He was already leaking at the tip, all he could think about was burying himself in her, replacing her finger in that picture and teasing her with his cock until she was drooling and begging for it.

He groaned as he ran his thumb over his slick tip, wishing it was her arousal getting his dick all wet instead.

Not yet darling, but it won’t be soon before that. Wish I could make a mess of you instead xxxx

Ella giggled inside the lonely bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror and noticing her flushed cheeks, the color going down her neck. She shifted in her spot when feeling a tingle run down her spine and settling between her legs. Fuck, she wished he could make a mess of her too—she missed the feeling of him pounding into her and then the warmth of his cum mixed with hers dripping out of her cunt.

She swallowed a moan as she replied, Wish you could make a mess all over me xxx

Alex groaned as he pictured his cum on her pretty face, tongue licking away the remnants of his seed on her swollen pink lips. In his mind flashed the fantasies of him cumming over her stomach, imagining Ella running her fingers over the mess and sucking on them to taste every last drop of him—the singer picked up the pace of his fist around his cock when he pictured himself licking it all up for her and spitting it all in her mouth, how she’d swallow gladly and pull him in for a hungry kiss.

It never took long for Alex to cum all over himself—or in a condom, if he wasn’t rushing enough to roll one down his length before getting himself off to the sight of her. And after the first time she complained about him not sharing proof of just how badly she affected him, Alex made sure to send her something back.

Ella drove back home with the biggest smirk on her face every time, knowing that she had a treat from him when she got back to hers. After a long day of work, there was nothing better than moaning his name as she used one of her toys while seeing pictures or a video of him getting himself off to the thought of her.

No one really said anything, because they all knew how badly it was to be away from their partners while on tour, but there were times when Alex and Ella were just too obnoxious for the lads to not taunt them about it.

Like the one time Alex felt careless enough to remain in his bunk when Ella called him late one night, her voice wavering and her breath staggering in a clear sign that it was one of those days she was too needy and had to hear his voice while touching herself.

His jeans becoming too tight as his cock grew heavy when she’d whine and whimper on the other side of the line, her thoughts incoherently leaving her mouth as she fucked herself with a toy that just didn’t feel as good as he did but was enough to satiate her need for him.

Alex’s whispers weren’t quiet enough, and the silent gasps he’d let out were too abrupt in the silence of the night to wake his mates and their wives up.

Ella’s fantasies ran loose as she came closer and closer to her climax, she painted the picture in detail as she continued gliding the dildo in and out of her dripping cunt, “I want you to bend me over the bathroom sink, and pound me from behind so hard I get bruises on my hips, baby. Want you to fucking spank me and pull my hair so I can see you through the mirror, and you can see me fucking drooling because your cock feels so fucking good inside me.”

“F-fuck, baby.” Alex groaned a bit too loudly, “Gonna be squeezing me so fucking tight with that sweet cunt of yours. And you’re gonna cum all over me, yeah? Gonna drench my cock, darling?”

Ella moaned louder in response and picked up her pace as she felt herself about to fall over the edge, “Yes–fuck! Yes, Alex!”

“Go on darling, give it all to me.”

His voice dropped an octave as he quickened his pace and he started thrusting upwards to fuck his own fist. He bit his lip not to moan out loud, holding his breath when Ella’s loud mewls and moans of his name came through the phone, cumming inside the condom he’d managed to put on.

Ella’s labored breaths matched his and it was all they heard as they came down from their highs, the crackling of the signal reminded them of the distance between them and suddenly the sweet remnants of release were exchanged by the longing of being skin to skin, missing how it felt to relish in how well they fit together body and soul in the aftermath of an orgasm.

“I miss you, sweetness,” Ella mumbled sadly, “Want you right here with me.”

“Me too, darling,” Alex sighed heavily, “I hate being away from you for so long. Will make it up to you, I promise.”

“Yeah?” Ella replied, a cheeky smirk growing on her face as she went to tease him, “How will you make it up to me, baby?”

“Anything you ask for darling. A thousand movies in Los Feliz, the moon and the stars, to worship you until my jaw aches and locks.” He heard her breath hitching, “Whatever you ask for, darling, it’s yours.”

She groaned loudly, “God, I fucking love you.”

He giggled like a fool, “I love you more.”

“Impossible,” she replied easily with his usual one-liner.

Alex snorted but before he could reply, someone shouted from another bunk, “Go to sleep you filthy fuckers, I’m tired.”

The silence was loud afterwards but Ella laughed loudly after a few seconds, calling Alex out for not going to the other bunk area or the back lounge like he usually did, “You just stayed in there with everyone else?”

“You kind of didn’t give me a choice, darling. I couldn’t think straight the second I picked up and heard you saying my name like that.”

Ella snorted, “Glad to know just how badly I affect you.”

Alex sighed, a loopy smile on his face as he clarified, “Oh darling, you’ve ruined me you know that.”

“Have I?” Ella countered, as if she didn’t know.

“Horrendously so.” Alex mumbled, “Ruined forever, baby.”

Ella bit her lip before going to reply, but again, someone else interrupted their conversation, “We just wanna sleep. You’re gonna see each other on the 6th. Just– please stop it, you soppy twats.”

Alex sighed in annoyance while Ella giggled. Even if he wanted to continue, he knew he’d just have to go to bed because he was sure now everyone in the bunks were awake and awaiting him to shut the fuck up.

So he sighed again before joking loudly so the nosy bunch would stop complaining, “Sorry darling, they’re just fucking jealous.”

A choir of insults and profanities were heard, making Ella laugh again. Alex joined in her giggling before actually bidding her farewell, “Love you, darling. See you soon, yeah?”

Ella sighed contentedly from hearing those words from him. She’d never get tired of hearing them nor saying them back. Biting her lip, she replied, “Love you. Sweet dreams, my love.”

“Sweet dreams baby,” he said back before she ended the call.

When Alex went to discard the condom in the bathroom, he had gotten another round of abuse from everyone else. The bullying didn’t relent for days, and every day as Alex pouted when he FaceTimed Ella, she threatened to be even worse if they wouldn’t leave her man alone.

That only triggered more bullying, but it was funny enough to hear them all creatively picking on Alex, and how his cheeks would tint pink when they’d imitate the noises he made or the things he said to her on the phone.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll make them pay when y’all get over here,” Ella promised one day after the teasing went on and on.

[shellbells-things]

So, I was chatting with some friends and we were discussing how, lately, the ASKS on Tumblr have been plagued with a bunch of “people” coming into our space, trying desperately to convince us that Jikook are basically estranged. It’s crazy how all over the place these ASKS are!

For example: “They have always hated each other and now they don’t have to hang out anymore. They are brothers and work friends only. They used to be a thing, but they aren’t anymore. They are cover for a real relationship. The company forces them to mention each other on social media. And my personal favorite….They’ve only seen each other a couple of times this year, they just aren’t close”.

What?! Are they stupid or something? Do they honestly think that they ONLY time Jikook (or any of the members actually) see each other is when they talk about it or post about it on social media? The rest of the time, nothing? Oh Lordy, I need something pretty to calm my nerves.

Thats better! Do these people really live in such an isolated world that they believe that the litmus test for a relationship is the number of posts on Instagram? Because that’s the standard they are holding Jikook to. Heck, I checked my own personal social media pages and saw that I’ve posted things about the people I actually LIVE WITH or that I see every single day…only a handful of times this year. So clearly, social media posts aren’t necessary for maintaining (or proving) a relationship.

We all know why that specific group of people are here. They NEED to try and disprove Jikook because if Jikook exists as a couple, then their fantasy is just that, a fantasy. And listen, they KNOW. They see it. Images of Jikook, in all of their Jikook glory, are burned on their retinas. They wouldn’t take Jikook moments and alter them (badly…oh so badly) by replacing Jimin’s face with, well, someone else’s, if they didn’t see the moments as romantic. Oh the second-hand embarrassment I get when I see those edits. Yeeeeshhh.

As for the so called “insecure Jikooker”, I can see how it happens. Listen, we used to basically LIVE with BTS. We saw them during practice, at concerts, eating together, backstage, on RUN BTS, Bon Voyage, Bangtan Bombs, In the Soop (1&2), during special content, at music shows and awards shows, photoshoots, commercials. They were much more active on social media, posting selfies on Twitter, talking in Fan Cafes, doing vLives regularly. I mean dang! It was constant. During all of that, from day ONE, we saw Jikook together. Sometimes they were quiet, sometimes they were loud. Regardless, they were always together (Satellite Jeon saw to that). Now, during solo era, we rarely see any of them together. And there is no “natural reason” for Jikook to be joined at the hip in the public eye. Before, they had reason, they had “cover” so to speak. But now? Suddenly, they share very very little about themselves. It’s quite the adjustment for fans to make and I can see how it leads to “discomfort”.

So now, I’m finally to my point! Jikook has been close for 10+ years, closer than close. They’ve risked a LOT to be together, worked through tough and scary times together. After all of the risk, hard work, and commitment, do we really, really think that different schedules would cause them to throw in the towel? Do we really think that having different work priorities would make them suddenly fall out? Really? I call BS on that. Out here in Normalville, people in relationships manage to go to different jobs daily, have sets of friends that do not crossover, even go on work or pleasure trips without each other, and still maintain a healthy, happy relationship. Couples in Normalville don’t have to post about each other regularly on social media, nor must they FaceTime all of their family, friends, and coworkers just to give them an update or their relationship status. Yet, this is the standard people are holding Jikook to. If they don’t prove themselves, they aren’t real? Wow. Harsh.

I saw this tweet and I thought it went well with my Ted Talk today. All you have to do is look at them and you know they have something special. And just because we can no longer see them as often, it doesn’t change the fact that their special relationship still exists. Just look at them. LOOK AT THEM. I feel confident, based on what we HAVE seen during this solo era, that Jikook are the same as ever. They are just having to travel down a new path together. And an actual BONUS for them, I think, is that they are getting to have a lot more privacy than they have had in the past. Anybody who says different has their own agenda and I, for one, don’t plan to give them any of my attention.

[messydiabolical]

@dandenbo asked me for the art asks: 🎠What is a typical 'workflow' for a piece from idea to finished? It turns out to be a long answer so here's its own post, under the cut to save your dash! How I go from screenshot to painting: (This is not intended to be a 'this is how you do it!' kind of guide. I absolutely don't do an optimal route, this is just how I go about painting and what works for me! I've done a workflow for a screenshot to painting as I do a few different things but this is one I could explain somewhat coherently. My comics tend to be created pretty chaotically lol)

1) I take an ungodly amount of screenshots while playing. Also pester friends for their screenshots or stalk the group discord for interesting shots.

2) Go through all those screenshots cursing why I took so many, looking for those great moments that I want to paint. I’m particularly looking for nice poses/captivating moments, dynamic lighting or interesting expressions, and they don’t need to have all 3 as we can fix some of that in the next step. Here’s the screenshot I chose for my Keahi x Thane piece:

It was a cute, soft moment between them and I liked the highlight at the edge of their profiles. 3) Refine the screenshot. I don’t use anything fancy for this. I game on windows PC, so I open up the screenshot with windows photo editor. I crop the image, play around with saturation, exposure, contrast, just basic editing until it looks tastier. For this piece I wanted it to be hyper colourful and vibrant, leaning towards warmer tones.

4) Decide what I will change, then gather references for those changes. In this case I was fortunate that not a lot needed changing. I knew I wanted to move Thane’s eye position to looking at Keahi rather than the way he is slightly off focus, do a more realistic ear with earrings for Keahi, make Thane a little more smiley and lower his eyelid and give Keahi nicer eyelashes. I keep a whole bunch of art guides and tutorials on my PC so I grabbed the necessary ones and sent them to my ipad ready to have on hand for the sketch stage. I have Thane’s character model in XNApose, so I can check things like his eyelid specifically in that (this is actually for a different project but shows you what I mean)

If I was going to change up the lighting/shading I would also gather references for that. For example sometimes i’ll take screenshots of lighting schemes I love from films/tv shows (think the strong teal and orange scheme in Mad Max or the neons of Blade Runner). Or for precise shadows, I can again use XNApose. I also have a little 3d printed Thane head I can shine a torch at and take photos of to get shadow ideas. For humans there’s lots of reference to be found with online searches, I find pinterest more useful than google for this. For specific expressions or body parts, i’ll just take photos of myself (hand poses, smiling from the right angle etc.) My camera roll is an interesting place. I have drawn drell frills on my neck and on my chest before to see how the lines would fold at certain angles. 5) Setting up a canvas I work in procreate. For a piece like this I try to go pretty big, say 5000 x 4000 pixels, then i’ll crop down later as needed. 300 DPI. As I work, I’ll make duplicates and continue on the copy each fresh session. When i’m finished I make a backup save of the PNG and .procreate files on an SSD. I immediately turn the background colour down to a more muted colour to not burn my retinas. If i’m using a textured background like an oil board i’ll insert it, and any overlays like canvas effects. Set up my layers from the start basically for easy toggling throughout. I try to be good and label things to make life easier, it doesn’t always happen though. I don't wear a digital glove or use paper effect screens but I do have a bottle of screen cleaner and a microfibre cloth handy at all times. 6) Sketch. I’m still very much learning to draw. I tried for a long time to do the classic ‘ball for a head, draw the planes/lines etc. It was a constant struggle and never clicked for me, the ball especially always made things much worse, turning a circle into a 3d image in my head just does not happen. I find it better to just start drawing and work things out as I go (I use procreates reference window to see my screenshot). So I’ll have my sketch in one canvas, and i’ll also have a second canvas with the photo ref on it at the same size, and if I feel like something is really wonky and off i’ll test my lines over the photo to see what’s gone wrong, then go back to the sketch and correct the areas that revealed. Sometimes I’ll use the grid feature if i’m getting stuck.  Here's a few of the sketch stages:

Here I tried out the lines on the photo and noticed that Thane’s frills were a little too far to the left, and Keahi’s eyebrow needed to arch down towards the nose.In the next pass I correct these:

Also, and I know i’m gonna get side eye from some people for this but I really could not care less to be honest. On some pieces i’ll just trace the screenshot. Sometime I just want to get to painting, am not in the mood or mindspace for a learning experience, and this is a hobby. It’s my screenshot, no one is getting ripped off. My latest Javik piece was done this way 🤷‍♂️ 6) Painting. I’ll start by blocking in the background and the portrait flats, usually on separate layers. I try to have an idea of the background colour from the start as this can effect the whole piece overall, but sometimes you just gotta change it as you go so having it on a different layer makes this much easier.

The painting itself I’ll lay down wider areas of colours, then start going in and refining bit by bit, I tend to work on one area at a time, and sometimes I’ll get pretty well rendered on a small area before moving on, other times work on a wider area. It really depends on my mood and what i’m vibing with that day. Like you can see here I’ve done some general messy colouring all over Keahi, but done a lot of refinement on the eyeball:

7) Finshing the piece, uploading and testing: When I’m sick of rendering the painting and don’t think I can add anything more to it without gnawing my own wrist off, it is time to finish up! I make sure I toggle all the layers I want on, add a top signature layer (lol I lie I forget this all the damn time). Then i’ll upload the piece to my google drive and open it up on my big 4k monitor on my PC, and on my phone, and see how it looks (my ipad is a 9.7inch air). I find that once off my ipad, it often looks a little less saturated and contrasting as it does in procreate. So I might go back and change the levels if it’s too big a difference until it looks decent across devices (it’ll never look perfect on them all though, just gotta find that happy medium).

8) Posting online I really don’t have any strict steps for this. I know some people go for optimal posting times, and will make multiple copies of their pieces in different sizes to fit better on different sites (damn you instagram and your need for everything to be square). I… do not do any of this lol. I post when I’m done whatever time or day that is. I do tend to reblog/retweet etc before I go to bed, as I live in the UK and that will at least be getting into evening time in US. I reblog my own stuff a fair bit.

[ddejavvu]

Mei, I’m literally not joking when I say your Spencer fic, clingy, is like absolutely phenomenal. Idk if it’s because it was the first Spencer fic I ever read, but I’ve literally never been able to find one quite as good, like one that makes my heart spike with angst, and kick my feet, and clench my pillow, as I burn my retinas from my phone, like actually makes my body physically feel things from the emotions your words give me, nothing as much as that fic first afflicted me.

I think I reread it every day for a week. Absolutely stunning work. Talk about setting the bar fucking high. I could never find anything that quite captured the vibe the same, and again, my first ever Spencer fic. I need you to know how amazingly well done the angst is, and how your work effects people, and people really do remember it and think about it past just reading it. I’ve eaten up all your Spencer angst and constantly love any new ones you provide. Just need to let you know that, because as a fellow writer, I think it’s important people say things like this when they truthfully feel that way by your work 💕

thank you so much :'))))) you should know that tumblr is a clingy HATER. I genuinely get like at least one comment a month that's like 'um actually y/n pisses me off here lol. she shouldn't expect so much from him' WHEN ALL SHE WAS EXPECTING WAS A TEXT ON HER ANNIVERSARY? reading the comments on that post honestly makes me worried for the people commenting like you guys are not treating yourselves fairly but whatever!!! so anyways i'm so glad you like it, i'm so glad it's enjoyable for you skjfndsf i will leave it up forever for you and only you!!!!!! it's so fantastic and important to me that my words did that to you, thank you for making me giggle and kick my feet <333

[toriria]

𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓— 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐬

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓

When arriving to Ayato’s apartment, seeing him in set up that could put a shame to other crime movies was definitely not what you were expecting.

You take a seat at the plastic table Ayato oh-so-wonderfully set up in the middle of his living room, wincing once a bright-ass light was directed towards you, “What is all of this? It feels like I’m getting investigated.”

You grimace, “Is the light that’s burning my retinas really necessary for your plan?”

He chuckles nervously and turns off the light, “Ah, no. Sorry about that.”

You can’t help but shake your head at his antics. So dramatic, yet so serious.

Muttering underneath your breath, a slight smile spreads on your face, “You’re really something else, Ayato.”

But it seems he didn’t hear you as he rereads the notes he’s taken on his beloved notebook. You groan at the sight of it.

Sensing your dismay, your kitten jumps down from her very fancy-looking scratch post and makes her way towards you.

“What would you say are your most likable qualities?” Ayato suddenly asks, staring at you keenly for your answer.

You hum, a small but uneasy smile playing on your lips, “Hm. I’ve never really thought about what makes me likable. People who like me, like me, and people who don’t, don’t.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Never?”

You huff, “What? Am I supposed to? I don’t need people to like me. I like animals more anyways.”

Despite not really getting an answer, you notice Ayato noting something down with a small smile on his face.

“What’s with that look? What are you writing in there?” You squint, trying to snatch the notebook away.

He gasps and holds the damn thing to his chest like a baby, “Hey! Be patient. I’ll go over everything after you answer a couple more questions.”

You slump back into the seat, petting the kitten in your lap to distract you.

“What is you ideal partner? What do you usually find attractive?” He asks.

You shrug, “I wouldn’t know, I’ve never liked someone enough.”

“How am supposed to work with this?” Ayato groans, which you know he prolonged for dramatic effect. “You’re giving me nothing here!”

He can be such perfectionist once he gets caught up on something, you think. You appreciate though, it means he’s taking it seriously.

“Quit whining! You’re going to scare the kitten,” You furrow your brows. “What do you find attractive then, huh?”

Ayato practically chokes, “W-What?! Why are you asking me such personal questions?”

You stare at him, pondering whether or not you should just leave with the kitten or tough it out. Unfortunately, the chance of a discount has you choosing the latter.

You sigh, “Clearly, we need to rethink a new strategy on how to go about this. We can get to know each other as much as we want, but it won’t change the fact that we don’t act like a couple.”

Of course Ayato has thought about that. It was practically the first thing he thought of when brainstorming. But to act like a real couple with you, his heart feels like might explode.

Control and order is what Ayato works best under, and if that isn’t the case, he can find ways to adapt and improve. Since he was young, he’s practiced how to solve situations that could arise with grace and precision. So, acting should usually be no problem for him.

But…

He glances at you, you whose attention has been captured by the cat on your lap. You start cooing at her about how she’s the reason you’re going to save so much money.

His lips quirk up at the sight, “I like a girl who’s straightforward and bold. One who seems to be intimidating at first glance, but once you see her smile, it’s over. Plus, she has to like animals.”

You perk up, drumming your hands on the table, “Ohh! Write that down! That’s good!”

He shakes his head and laughs, flipping a page in his notebook, “Now, you have to go. Just think of something.”

“Wow, how helpful,” you roll your eyes.

Still, you lean back and close your eyes, humming to yourself as you think.

“I like people who are…cool,” you laugh, your cheeks warming up a bit.

Talking to him about this stuff is kind of embarrassing, you thought. But he shared, so it wouldn’t be fair to not put some effort.

He tilts his head in amusement, noticing your red cheeks, “Cool? That’s it?”

You groan, “I mean—Ugh! I like people who are like—funny and passionate about things they love once you start talking to them.”

“So having hobbies is attractive to you?” He smirks.

You slap his thigh lightly, “I don’t know how to explain it, okay? You make it sound so simple, but it’s more than that! It’s kind of like…you!”

Ayato freezes, but his mind goes haywire, “H-huh? Me?”

“And like Ayaka,” You nod, and his hopes go down the drain. “You both come from a very powerful family, and based on that, people make assumptions. It’s normal, it’s human.”

Ayato nods, and you continue, “And while you two are both polite and well-mannered, I’ve enjoy getting to find out more things about you. Like how unexpectedly dramatic you are. Or how much Ayaka like to bake despite…”

You gulp, not even being able to finish this sentence.

Ayato laughs, “Oh god, you’ve tried her baking too?”

You hit him again, lightly, “Shush! You’ll hurt her feelings!”

He catches your hand in his and pouts, “Stop hitting me! And she’s not even here! Just admit it’s bad.”

You tsk, “It’s not horrible…it’s just crunchy, sometimes.”

“Mm, crunchy,” he smirks. “Would you say those crunchy bits are usually black and taste different?”

You laugh and shake your head, “Stop. You’re talking about my best friend’s baking, you know?”

“You’re best friend is my little sister, you know?” He grins.

A voice pipes up from the doorway, “I think you guys got the acting like a couple part down.”

You scream and put an arm in front of Ayato, “Who the fuc— Childe?!”

The ginger grins and waves, “Yo.”

Ayato stands up, “Why—How did you even get in here?!”

“Your front door was unlocked. That’s real dangerous, man. Also, you weren’t picking up your phone, and Thoma got worried like he always does,” he shrugs. “Thank goodness he told me to check up on you. Who knows who could’ve broken in.”

Ayato blinks, “You?! You literally broke in?!”

He pats Ayato on the shoulder, “Don’t worry about the little things too much. Come on now, everyone is waiting.”

He turns to you, “Sorry to cut your date short, Y/n. But you know how it goes, bros before—“

Ayato cuts him off, “Do not finish that sentence, Ajax.”

You squint, “No, finish it. I want to know how it ends.”

Childe laughs nervously, “What’s with that look all-of-a-sudden, huh?”

Ayato clamps a hand over his mouth, “Sorry for the inconvenience. I have no idea why Thoma puts so much faith in this one. We can meet up again another time! Oh, and take the kitten with you.”

You just nod, quickly gathering everything up, “Have a good day?”

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: (𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝!)

@yintsukareta @koritasp @whats-humanity-lol @reverse-iak @estelwrld @slvdsjjk @hadesaedes s @gothic-illustrations @fanfictwarrior r @velionas @elysiasbae @morgan-is-writing @aixaingela @ang3lzwrld @still-dazai-simp-not-sorry @kuni-kuzushii @kazuyato @yohoo-tehee @kazuhasmaid @marshmallow12435 @deathkat657 @ropuszke @dollpoetwriting @silverninja48 @ryomenswife @nebulaera @axerrri @racoonlvr @mayasshitposts @lifeisnotdaijoubu-sigh @kazuko-l0I @kaxoohaa @dreamlessnight @sweetstrawberrybabe @itsactuallylina @balladeertome @aromaticism @4lhaitham @sharkiestory @cooki-anna

[just-a-queer-fanboy]

I've been going down more digital horror rabbit holes lately and it's really weird man

Edited to add a few more I found

So here's a quick list of absolute trips I've subjected myself to

Treatsforbeasts. A classic, but when you watch something other than beasts or plastic men, it starts getting really weird. I think the strangest one I've seen so far is mom ordered ants for my birthday.

Nana8257. I love her work, but Jesus fucking christ there is so much red my retinas are burning

Boisvert may have been depressing but it has so much meme potential

Local 58 is horrifying and You are on the fastest available route actually made me cry, I cannot stand robotic voices saying ominous shit, it just hits that uncanny valley

No Through Road, again, made me cry. That was so well made and actually scary

I can't sleep is basically what my mental state was last spring. All I'm gonna say is I hope she's getting help.

OO390, although it may be a confirmed ARG, is just really creepy. Don't record people without consent just to make an "oooooo spooky" youtube channel.

Robert Helpmann. Yeah, the dead body is almost guaranteed to be fake, but it never fails to horrify me.

Hey Walter, Meet My Girlfriend. Yup, another confirmed to be fake, but realistic enough to genuinely terrify me. Trigger warnings for kidnapping and (implied) sexual assault.

Honestly all that this post has proved is that I get scared way too easily and now I'm gonna need music to get to sleep so I don't think about no through road

[kaybreezy3000]

Bad Things (Five Hargreeves/ Reader)

~Psychopathy is a neuropsychiatric disorder marked by deficient emotional responses, lack of empathy, the inability to distinguish between right and wrong, poor behavioral controls, and behaviors that contradict social norms which then commonly result in persistent antisocial deviance and criminal behavior.

Enter, Five Hargreeves, everyone's favorite little psycho.

(Chapter Four Post)

---If you need to go back to read the summary and the first 3 chapters first, hit the links below. Chapter 5 through 7 will be added all at the same time very soon...

Summary and Chapters 1-2

Chapter 3

Warnings and tags: Mental disintegration, psychological trauma, effects of isolation, masturbation, non-consensual voyeurism, explicit sexual content, bondage, POV altering, touch starved, obsessive behavior, inanimate object love, and many other sexually deviant themes all mixed with a lovely twist that you will hopefully enjoy...

Chapter Four: Heart-Shaped Box

The moment Five regains consciousness, a low groan begins to drone out of him, but it fizzles out after a few seconds into a shaky inhalation of pure agony.

His eyes slowly begin to peel open as he pushes his body outwards, languidly stretching. Even though the sun isn’t all the way up yet, to Five, it feels like the very minimal light coming in his windows is hitting his retinas and burning holes straight through his brain.

Rapidly blinking to try and clear his vision doesn’t work. So, Five tries to bring his arms down from over his head in an attempt to rub some clarity into his burning eyes, but his elbows stop mid-bend on each side of his head.

Suddenly aware that something isn’t right, Five throws his chin back and sees that his wrists are both tied to his headboard. Moving his legs across the bedding, he realizes he can’t move much that way either and that’s because his ankles are bound by rope that’s tied to the footboard. 

Adding to his disorientation, when Five peers down between his widely spread legs, he is greeted with the sight of his dream girl from across the alley.  

Her yellow button up sweater is hanging over the back of Five’s dingy old chair, opposite his jet-black suit jacket. The first rays of morning light spilling in from the windows are shooting across the small room casting a heavenly glow on her slender legs that are currently resting up over the arm of the chair as she sits in a sideways position.

To Five, it appears that she doesn’t know how to properly sit in that type of chair and that she is hanging out in his apartment, eating his food, and acting like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

“What the fuck?” he huffs.

The girl doesn’t even bother looking at him. “Morning sunshine. Sleep well?” she quips as she uses a knife that looks like his switchblade to stab a piece of toast off the plate in her lap.

“How’d you get out of-"

“I got out of my bonds because I’m very sneaky, and because you were very drunk and didn’t tie your knots correctly,” she replies, cutting him off.

The girl takes a few more nibbles of her breakfast, and as she eats, Five can see very raw looking red rings around her wrists. Instead of apologizing for tying her up and inadvertently causing those fresh injuries, he angrily kicks his legs while furrowing his brows in frustration.

“You took my shoes!” Five snaps, noting that his shiny oxfords are dangling off the girl’s small feet.  

“You took mine,” she sasses, happily bouncing them around as if she’s trying to further mock him.

Five sneers at her, trying to bite back some of his ire over her taking his stuff. “Yeah, but that was so you were more comfortable.”

The girl laughs at him. “Well, gee thanks. That was so thoughtful of you, but I really needed to use the bathroom and there was glass all over in there and I didn’t see my shoes at first, so I popped on these big boats rather than get glass in my feet or pee on your floor.”

Five’ frowns. “There’s broken glass in there?”

She squints her eyes at him. “You seriously don’t remember that?”

Five looks even more baffled by her question. Feeling very defensive because he’s clearly at a major disadvantage, his response comes off excessively irritated. “I don’t know what you are talking about!”

She shakes her head, letting out an exasperated sigh as she begins typing away on his phone again while also explaining. “A few hours ago, you had a drunken rage filled whack-a thon in there that was so explosive that the room should be roped off with crime scene tape and hosed down because of the spooge you sprayed all over the place.”

“I did not do that,” Five mutters.

The girl’s eyebrows raise as she gives him the side eye. “Yes. You. Did.”

In an even further confused state, swallowing thickly, his mouth gummy and tasting like complete shit, Five runs over his very jumbled memories of the night prior. 

He remembers sitting at his table fucking himself, and then fucking up majorly again down in the parking lot. One thing led to another, and he had to improvise a way out of his self-induced mess, but he does not remember doing that or being tied to his own bed as the outcome he was shooting for.

Five remembers that he was super drunk and having a hard time thinking clearly but he was going to leave. He was going to clean himself up, grab Dolores and go.

Five only vaguely recalls laying down. 

Images of Dolores and the girl blur in his mind as he tries to piece it all together.

Well, fuck…

Five realizes that he must have fallen asleep at some point, but he doesn’t remember anything much after feeling extremely relieved that the girl woke up and that she seemed mostly okay. Everything after that isn’t coming to him, and this bathroom incident she is talking about is a complete blank space in his night’s shocking timeline of epic fails and fuckups.

“I don’t get it, why are you still here? You should have run the moment you were free. This doesn’t make any sense! Why tie me up if I passed-out, and why did you stick around to make yourself breakfast? This is nuts!” he shouts.

With each thing uttered, Five’s tone gets more and more agitated, and the girl ignoring him, and her smart-ass smile are only making his terrible unease worse.

“You are hilarious,” she chuckles when she finishes what she was doing and looks over again. “Why am I getting the feeling that you are trying to point the blame on me for this? What you just said is a pot calling the kettle black statement if I ever heard one. You really think I’m the only nutty one here?”

Five doesn’t have a reply for that, but it feels like he has smoke coming out of his ears because he is so pissed at the way she is so openly making fun of him.

The girl rolls her eyes over dramatically to further prove that Five is annoying her too. 

“You know, I had figured it wouldn’t be necessary to gag you since your screaming and yelling will only make your situation worse, you know, being you abducted me first and all, but don’t test me. You really underestimated me when it comes to the crazy things I am capable of if provoked. I am warning you; you do not want to make me silence your snappy yapper. I have something much more interesting than a dish towel to shove in there,” she taunts.

Just as Five is about to say something back to that, he hears unfamiliar music ringing out.

“Oh yeah, hope you don’t mind, but I broke into your phone and changed a few settings,” the girl flippantly states, as she uses her index finger to flick the glass screen.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” Five questions again, but the girl disregards him, so he looks over at Dolores by the window.

Speaking to her in his mind, he asks her if she’s okay, but she says nothing back and Five’s heart sinks when he remembers that she won’t answer him. 

Parts of trying to plead with her last night start coming back to him, but still, it blends with thoughts and images of the girl and it does nothing to help him remember what he did.

His anxiety mounting by the second, Five pulls at his restraints, but he can hardly move more than an inch each way because they are so tight. Feeling like he’s about to go bananas, he furiously barks out the girl’s name to get her attention.  

She looks up from his phone, quirking a brow at him. “Yes, Number Five?”

Triple fuckedy fuck fuckers!

Now Five’s panic is really starting to take hold.

She obviously figured out who he really is.

After tapping around on his screen for another minute or so, she finally lowers the device and tilts her head in his direction.

“Did you call the police?” Five asks point blank, even though he’s sure she did and it’s just a matter of time before they will be here to arrest him. It’s the only logical explanation of why she’s still here. She’s just making sure he doesn’t get away.

Instead of answering him, the girl slowly licks crimson colored jelly off the end of his switchblade. After a few passes, she seems satisfied that she got all of it and she points the knife at Five’s defenseless crotch instead.

Five’s lips pull tight into a very thin line and his entire body tenses.

The melodic laughter that comes out of her over his reaction only makes Five try to recoil even more, but that gets him nothing but looking like even more of a scared stupid asshole who moronically let this tiny chick get the best of him.

Before Five can think of anything else to say, she sets her empty plate down on top of his stack of books. Her lips pull to the side as she makes a very deliberate twirling motion with the knife. “I have been having a little trouble making up my mind about how I should deal with you.”

She cocks her head even more, her pretty smile so wickedly mischievous that Five can hardly believe this is the same sweet looking girl next door that he’s been spying on at night and daydreaming about all day.

“One solution that I’ve been tossing around is removing that over eager meat puppet of yours.”

Chomping for effect, she shows Five a flash of her brilliant white teeth, and seeing them, his face turns even more ashen.

“Keeping that thing in line seems to be a bit of a problem for you, but I am not big on blood and guts before noon so, ipso facto, you get to keep it for now.”

“Ahhhh , thank you,” Five croaks in reply but he can’t help squirming as she makes small jabbing motions while still aiming the weapon right at his overactive male appendage.

“Awwwe, your welcome,” she mimics back, copying his broken tone. “I appreciate your attempt at showing some manners, but the real problem is that I do not take kindly to being abducted or assaulted. You no doubt saw that with the whole attempted date rape situation I had going on over at my place while you were jerking it. Unfortunately, they will do nothing if I report that creep for what he tried to do, such as it is, being a shitty man’s world and all, justice sometimes has to be served more creatively. The only downside to that one was I didn’t pull my head out of the gutter soon enough to smash his tiny penis into a useless dick paste. With you, I have had more time to consider my options,” she finishes while brandishing a very devious smirk.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Five blurts.

The girl snickers over Five’s high-pitched declaration, then she lets his cell phone slip down on the chair giving him her undivided attention. Now that Five finally has it, he’s not so sure he wants it.

Her feet wiggle and Five's heavy shoes flip off thunking to the floor.

The girl’s legs float down facing him, one crossing over the other slowly enough that it gives Five a straight shot view up her short skirt. Her eyes narrow as Five’s very wide eyes dart back to hers. Seeing him even more frazzled by the sight of her not wearing panties only seems to further please her.

‘Fuck, fuck, Fuck,’ Five’s mind whirls as he hopelessly twists and thrashes. This is a trap, in a trap, and there’s only one foreseeable outcome. His stomach rolls. ‘Holy fuck, I am losing my meat puppet.’

“Settle down over there. I am starting to see that hurting women isn’t really your thing,” she purrs, “so let’s just say, I am going to treat this as a very special case that needs a little more finesse when it comes to making things right.”

“What are you going to do?” Five questions, his voice cracking again.

Instead of answering his question, the girl reaches down beside her, pulling out the lacy panties that Five just saw she wasn’t wearing anymore.

“First thing I will do if you get too loud or give me any more back talk is ram these pretties in that pouty mouth of yours and tape it closed for the remainder of our time together. I would do it now, but something tells me I shouldn’t because you’d enjoy it way too much.”

Five shakes his head back and forth, denying it. “I only did that to you to keep you quiet till I was gone. I didn’t mean to leave you that way or touch you inappropriately, or do anything of this, I swear.”

The girl eyes Five’s knife with an evil looking sparkle in her eyes. “Ah-huh…” she utters, mulling that over, but understandably not buying all of it. “It doesn’t matter what kind of hell you’ve been through or how lonely you are over here with only your mannequin to keep you company. Using me to fuel your sexual fantasies was a big no-no, Five Hargreeves.”

Five’s heart races as he watches her gracefully rise and then leisurely slink over the footboard of his bed, landing on the bed between his feet on her hands and knees. 

She looks feline in her movements, even in the way she slowly runs her hands over the ropes attached to his feet, giving them each a small jerk before she gazes up at him again, comes off lithe and dance like.

Though Five can hardly believe it has come to this, he is laying here completely at her mercy. After all the ruthless kills he has under his own belt, Five is convinced that he is about to get flayed by the most seductive little murderer on the planet. If he wasn’t so terrified, he’d maybe even laugh at how ironic this is.

The girl prowls closer, her eyes trained on his. “Normally, there is nothing wrong with touching yourself and getting off on watching other people, but that’s only if you have their permission. You did not have mine and you knew it.”

“I am sorry,” Five hoarsely chokes out as she starts tracing a line up his leg with the blade of his knife. She presses the cool metal point down over the fine wool, the pressure so gentle it doesn’t cut through, but it does send shivers up and down Five’s spine.

“Thanks. That’s very nice to hear, but it’s a little too late for that. You made a big mistake by fooling yourself into thinking you know me. I am nobody’s plaything. When it comes to my men, I prefer to do the playing. That’s why I have such a hard time finding a decent date. Most guys don’t like to be put in their place,” she adds, her electrified eyes going from the blade moving up Five’s tensed thigh to his very distressed face.

Five is trying so hard not to react emotionally or physically, but it’s impossible not to, especially when she stops with the sharpest part of the switchblade pressed down against his groin.

He lets out a tiny whimper making her sugary smile all the brighter.

“Tackling me in the parking lot was not smart. But then, you tied me up, went total boner boy on me, proceeded to fuck yourself till your hands were both bleeding, and then finished the night off by trying to snuggle me to death while you called me your fuck doll girlfriend’s name.” 

Five’s face gets redder and redder as she goes on, and she only smiles wider because of it. 

“All that, Hargreeves, was a whole new unusual category of sexual proclivities for me to wrap my head around and that’s saying a lot because I am no stranger to sexually deviant behavior. I actually enjoy things a little erotically out of the norm, but that’s only if I am a willing participant.”

Five lets out a strained hiss as the tip of the blade pricks his skin. “I didn’t mean to do that,” he pants, “I only brought you up here because I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t want to leave you passed out on the ground. I swear I never meant to hurt you. I don’t even remember doing most of that crazy shit!”

“Maybe you should lay off the booze and you won’t have such a hard time functioning or remembering that you drooled on me for over an hour,” she suggests.

“You are right. That was a big mistake among many I’ve made recently,” Five readily agrees, realizing that his gross sleep slobber is probably why she took off her sweater. “I am sorry I did that and I am sorry about your shirt.”

The girl’s lips pucker and her eyes wrinkle at the corners, reflecting her amusement over his quickly babbled apology. 

The blade moves away from his dick as she crawls up over him. Feeling only somewhat less panicky, Five inadvertently lets his eyes flick down to her chest that’s on full display in her exceptionally tight-fitting tank top. His eyes stop on her cleavage, and he finds it very hard to pull them away until he sees and hears her breathily laughing at him.

The second he guiltily meets her scrutinizing gaze again her cheeky smile evaporates.

Other than his jaw muscles flexing uncontrollably from his nervous tick, Five’s entire body is literally scared stiff and getting stiffer.

“I am sorry,” he squeaks again, shutting his eyes.

‘Time capacitance and cellular atrophy applied to 6.62607015 times 10 carried to the power of 34 joules per second, and the wave function of- Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!’

Five’s mind spits out a frenzied babble of equations and theories that explain the flow of time and the physical processes he used to use to travel within it, but unfortunately it is doing nothing to halt all blood flowing to his dick or calm him down.

“I know that you weren’t aware of what you were doing,” the girl says, simpering at him as he mentally and physically flounders. “You were actually a pretty good boy last night, all things considered that is. That’s why I am giving you this chance to make amends with me before I leave you to face the music.”

Her fingers run along Five’s chest so lightly that he shudders. Only when she gripes his slackened tie giving it a small tug does he realize he's wearing it again, meaning, she put it back on him because that remembers taking off. She's got him tied up and leased and it's not good but still, heat immediately flushes his face and neck, while the offender in his trousers gets even more excited.

Now that she’s hovering over his upper body, the girl reaches over to Five’s bedside table, picking up a glass filled with orange juice.

“Drink,” she orders, pressing the cup to his bottom lip.

At first, Five doesn’t. He shakes his head side to side refusing.

She laughs and roughly grabs him by the back of his head, fingers lacing through his hair. Using his chocolatey mane to guide him, she moves the cup to his mouth again. “It’s not poisoned, you extremely smart dip shit. If I wanted you gone, you would already be gone.”

The girl gives Five’s messy hair a tug, pulling his head back with it, and he very begrudgingly opens his mouth and lets her pour in the pulpy fluid. Five messily chokes the entire thing down because he has no other choice if he doesn’t want it to dump all over him making him even more of a pathetic mess.

Once done, the girl sets the cup down again, then grins at him as she uses her fingers to gently wipe a few sticky dribbles from his chin. 

“Good boy,” she snarks as she gives his face a little slap that is clearly meant to be more demeaning than painful.

After that, when her fingernails brush across the back of his neck, Five’s eyelids droop as the most dependent sounding sigh comes out of his visibly trembling lips. “Hit me harder, I deserve it. Please," he quietly whispers.

He presses his face against the hand that she just smacked him with. Right now she is using it to toy with the ends of his disheveled hair rather than looking like she’s preparing to hit him again.

“This isn’t about that kind of pain,” she calmly tells him. “It’s about control, and I am going to strip every last remaining ounce of it away from you, just like what you did to me. You say you are sorry, but I find that words usually mean very little. I need to know for sure that you fully grasp why what you did is wrong. I can’t walk away until I do.”

The girl’s fingers brush along Five’s cheek again and this time she lets her hand linger long enough for him to press his lips to palm.

Five can’t quite read the look in her eyes over his shameless display of surrender. He hopes that it’s enough to captivate her because even if she isn’t planning on killing him, losing one of his very important body parts is still very much part of his many worries. Getting in her good graces in any way he can can’t be a bad thing.

When she pulls her hand away from Five’s mouth it almost seems to him that she does so reluctantly, but what she says and does next doesn’t give him time to think about that or the fact that he was only partly doing that to get inside her head.

“I think this is exactly what you need, Five.”

Five does not see what she means. When her bottom begins to descend over his pelvis, Five is completely beside himself with how to comprehend it or any of this.

He has no choice but to take whatever she does to him, willing or not, which he realizes must have been exactly how he made her feel the moment she woke up and found herself tied to his bed. He gets that she is trying to show him how bad that felt, but he does not understand why she keeps tempting him like this. This doesn’t feel bad.

Five doesn’t flinch this time when she leans over him or when she starts running the blunt side of the knife blade up the underside of his arm, but he does let out another soft whine like sound from inside his throat that is impossible for him to keep in.

She stops the tickling blade right over his Umbrella Academy tattoo. “Well Number Five,” she lets his name linger on her tongue in a way that makes Five’s skin tingle even more, “you clearly need a psych eval from a qualified professional, but even I can confidently say that there seems to be a very strange disconnect going on in your brain department, and it’s only partly happening because you got yourself exceptionally inebriated. This Dolores of yours seems like a real doll, but… Yeah. You are evidently in dire need of something a bit more exciting to keep your mind and libido engaged, only you went about getting it in a very unhealthy way which made your whole situation worse. Why not just ask a girl out and show her an ounce of the care you do for your mannequin?”

Thinking about that and how similar it is to what Klaus said to him, Five swallows thickly again despite his mouth feeling much less dry and disgusting. “Something is wrong with me, and I don’t know how to fix it. I am not sure I can,” he stammers as she begins to unbutton his vest.

She giggles as if Five is being so funny about all this. “We all have our dark side. Yours may be about as black as it can get but stop being so doom and gloom about it. Just own it. You’ll feel so much better and maybe make a few real, mutually freaky friends along the way.” The girl gets even more excited and perky as she adds, “I bet there’s some great people in prison or even the nut house that will fit that bill, lucky you, right?”

“What are you doing?” Five asks when she has the material of his fitted vest spread wide and her one hand is untucking his dress shirt and the other is maneuvering the switchblade, methodically removing each of his pearly buttons one at a time.

“I am teaching you a very important lesson that you can’t learn from any detention facility unless your boyfriend Bubba is a really nice guy and sugars you up really good and says please before he fucks your cute ass.”

“What kind of lesson?” Five responds, trying to keep the jumpy edge out of his voice but totally failing. Any chance of getting under her skin enough to get her to go easy on him and any of the anger and bravado he started with in this conversation is long gone now.

She laughs again and it’s obvious to Five that she is really enjoying watching him squirm. She is beating him at his own game and then some but when it comes to seduction Five knows he has no game.

When the girl’s hips move very subtly against his, Five can’t believe it, but she does it again proving he wasn’t imagining it.

“You certainly do have some impressive issues. Only one of those is that you are one of the seven adoptive children of that asshole Reginald ‘I own the whole world Hargreeves.’ As if that tyrant doesn't already have his fingers in everything already, now he's got some new project going on that's got nuclear disaster written all over it. The next thing we'll find out is that he bought Central Park and it's being turned into some kind of weird launch pad for this space race thing he's trying to get ramped up again. Something is obviously up with that, and I don't get why nobody steps in and stops that guy before something awful happens.”

The girl's rant makes it very clear she has no love for Five's dad and his many controversial projects in and around the city. Five can't help but muse over the fact that he feels the same way about all the things she just said, and he also is finding out that this chick is about as off her rocker as he is. He never would have guessed that when it came to reality, they'd be so similar. Five had only painted a picture in his mind of her and this was not at all it.

Her smirk grows as she glances around Five’s one room apartment then goes back to examining him lying helplessly under her.

“Looks like he left you about as high and dry as he could, but I’d say having as little to do with him as possible is a good thing even if you don’t have your fun powers anymore, you are about as sexually deprived and horny as a guy can get, and you live in a dump, and exclusively date a woman made of plastic.”

She giggles over her own comment as her body continues to move against his in the most maddening way.

Five feels so incredibly lost.

The last of Five’s buttons roll off on the bed, and to his relief, the girl flicks the switch blade closed and tucks it under her waistband. Under her flowy little skirt Five can feel his cock pressing up against the heat of her sex and there is nothing he can do to stop it because he can’t move away, and he can’t prevent his body’s reaction to this.

Crushing levels of anxiety feel like they could make Five’s wildly beating heart split in two. 

“I can’t stop this,” he warns, his eyes darting down to make clear what he means.

“I know, and this time I don’t want you too. Now, do I have your consent to proceed with the lesson or not?" she asks while toying with his tie again. "If not, I am stuck pretty much as is, doing only what you did to me without asking and that’s only because fair is fair.”

There is no hiding the quiver in Five’s voice. “I don’t know what you mean.”

The length of woven silk around his neck tightens as the girl leans down over him, her hair brushing against his quickly rising and falling chest. Her mouth descends against his neck and already a loud and very desperate sounding moan breaks from his parted lips.

“Ppppp-leease!” he shrilly stammers.

She doesn’t relent. Her plush lips move across his throat, paying special attention to the hollows where his neck meets his chest.

To Five, it feels like she is about to choke him yet she is also caressing him with the softest flower petal, and it’s like nothing he’s ever felt before. He has never experienced anything close to this euphoria when he is the one trying to bring about this kind of pleasure, but it would be impossible for him to have had this because as much as he pretended it was happening, Dolores could never touch him or taunt him back.

“I understand that since you started watching me and when you were touching me last night, you were trying to fill a very painful void. Somewhere in you is something broken and dangerous, though it’s apparent that it is not something that rules you. You may have done bad things and still do, and you’re mentally not doing that great right now, but you are not the sadistic monster I thought you were.”

When the girl moves herself over the hardening bulge in Five’s pants while she pulls her lips off his neck and proceeds to stare at him very expectantly, he cries out. “How do you know that!”

As Five shouts, she digs her nails into his chest. “I told you to be quiet or else,” she softly shushes, her warm breath against his ear as her hands simultaneously run down his sides and back up again. The feeling of her fingers exploring every exposed inch of him draws another cry like moan out of him.

What she is doing to him is almost registering as painful because it feels so unbelievably good and that’s even with her embarrassingly scolding him like he’s a naughty child rather than a man mentally over twice her age. 

Totally beside himself, Five is about to beg her to do that again but she begins moving her lips along his jaw and that has him shuddering uncontrollably.                      

Because he can’t help himself at this point, Five clenches his teeth and his head drops back giving her more access. His hips rise until the ropes pull back at his feet preventing him further motion as his body instinctively reacts to the amazing sensations boiling through him even though his mind is screaming at him not to push her and to find a way out of this.

“I don’t understand why you are doing this,” Five all but weeps as the girl’s mouth parts and she begins to suck and lick along his collar bone.

Her body pressed against his as she covers him with mind blowing kisses has Five’s body filling with high levels of oxytocin and endorphins and that's on top of loads of adrenaline. The deathly hangover he felt when he woke up magically disappeared almost as soon as she touched him.

“This feels so good. I don’t know what’s going on but please don’t stop,” Five begs as he writhes beneath her. When the girl sucks on his neck hard enough to leave a mark, he yelps like a hurt puppy. “ Shhh -iiitttt!” he sputters as his head thrashes against the pillows. “I am sorry, I am not trying to be loud, but I can’t help it.”

Five’s bid for forgiveness and for being so loud again is met with one of the girl’s hands moving up into his hair. That feels so damn amazing that he accidentally moans loudly again.

“I was joking about being quiet. I like to hear you verbally losing control of yourself. It’s hot, and so are you like this, Number Five,” she hushes.

Her saying that has Five’s toes curling and him fighting not to move his own hips in a way that she realizes is because he’s greedily trying to increase the friction already going on between them. If he just rolls and wriggles under her like he’s still trying to get away then maybe she won’t stop teasing and tormenting him.

That’s what this is about, right?

When the girl suddenly nips at the shell of his ear, Five cries out, but he’s not even sure what he’s asking for. “Please!”

“Do I have your consent to proceed?”

Five still doesn’t understand. He thought she was going to torture him, but this is a whole different kind of wonderful suffering that makes no sense, and it feels like it’s obliterating what is left of his crushed mind and heart.

She could bury the blade of his knife deep at this point and he’s sure he wouldn’t feel a thing other than the heat of her amazing body willingly touching his.

When she begins to pull away, Five’s arms reactively pull against the ropes as he tries reaching for her, but of course he can’t, and they snap back.

Even though Five still doesn’t know what he’s allowing, he restlessly nods his head yes anyway. “Yes! You can do anything you want to me!”

Seeing that she got what she was waiting for, the girl glides her body down over Five’s, her satiny hair running along the smooth skin of his heaving chest.

“Oh, FUCK!” Five spouts as her teeth sink down over the taut fabric stretched over his erection.

Maybe she wasn’t kidding when she hinted that she might bite his dick off and maybe he shouldn’t have added that anything bit.

She growls in a way that’s very feminine but somehow also very terrifying as the concentrated pressure she is applying releases, and Five hisses and bucks, his body still not caring if she hurts him. 

He just wants more of anything she will give. The idea of her punishing him is almost as big of a turn on as her gentle touches, which Five knows is completely fucked-up and proves that she is right. He is a kinky perv who clearly needs more appropriate outlets to control his many fucked-up urges.

“Mmmmm,” she softly buzzes, her lips kissing the tip of Five’s throbbing cock through his pants as her hands rub up and down his quivering thighs. “You like that?”

“Yes,” he grates out, his feet digging down into his bed before his sock-covered heels slip out again leaving him with zero leverage as he tries to move himself against her amazing mouth.

She lets him get away with it for a moment more till she pulls away enough to say, “Good, because I like watching you like it, and I am starting to think your naughty meat puppet isn't such a bad guy either. He's just very deprived.”

His heels dig in again as her lips caress the most sensitive part of his body. Five’s mind staggers horribly as he tries to understand her confusing compliments and her loving caresses.

“See,” she chirps after confidently rubbing the palm of her hand over his length and even nuzzling his manhood with her nose, “when you have permission and a willing partner, things can be so much more fun.”

When she abandons the tightly stretched fabric outlining his cock and instead slithers up his body raking her nails up his chest as she goes, Five’s already rushed breathing becomes weak and shallow. His green eyes lock on her like an animal sizing up its prey.

“I want to fuck you so bad!” Five growls.

To that, her tongue flicks over one of his nipples, teasing, tasting, and testing his reactions. The anguished, super soft whimpers she gets back seem to make her happy based on her small smile, but when she eases herself up and bites down where Five’s neck meets his shoulder, he angrily yanks against his restraints and growls again and that has her mouth spreading even wider against his tender skin.

Pushing her lower body into Five while gripping his ass, she mouths her next words in between more licks and nips, “Growl all you want, but this isn’t about what you want.”

Five arches his back, the ropes pulling taut, his breath rushing out of him in an orgasmic sounding wail. “Please release me!”

“No,” she quickly smarts back. “Since you like to watch so much, that’s exactly what you are going to do, only this time I’m the one getting off.”

The implications of her saying that are not lost on Five, especially when she lifts her skirt and starts touching herself.

“Oh fuck me,” he whines, again all strength lost in his softly uttered words.

Her brows scrunch up and he squirms against the ropes as she seductively slowly slides a finger between her legs. 

Five’s deeply distressed groans turn to grunts as his hips fuck up even though he can’t reach her with them. His dark gaze remains glued to her. He isn’t blinking at all for fear that he misses any of the pure beauty of this mysterious act that he’s only ever seen in videos before this.

The girl’s eyes close as her finger dips in and out of her sex. A couple of passes over the flushed and engorged lips covering her most private parts and she’s moaning too.

“Ahhh, yes. Ffff-ffuck, Five, fuck yes.”

Just knowing that she’s saying his name and is turned on by this and him is blowing Five’s already blown mind and it’s also making him even closer to blowing his load in his pants.

Five’s hungry moans of approval only egg her on. Her hips rock and her other hand comes up over her breasts as an orgasm racks her body making her eyes fly open meeting Five’s lust filled stare and what has to be the biggest hard-on he has ever had.

“Release me,” Five pleads still trying to fuck the air under her.

“How about no,” she breathlessly counters. “I am not done teaching you your lesson yet.”

She leans forward, offering him the finger she just used on herself and Five gladly devours it, closing his lips over it, using his tongue to taste every last drop of her he can. 

Getting to know what a woman’s desire tastes like is almost enough to send him over the edge because Five is already imagining what it would feel like if it had been his fingers doing that and as usual, he is very good at imagining things.

“Release me. If you let me really taste you, I promise I won’t stop until I make you come again. I’ll do anything you ask. Please let me show you how much I want you,” he anxiously petitions when she slides the finger from his mouth.

Five’s expression is so pained as he tries to convince her to let him go. It looks like he might die or spontaneously combust if he doesn’t get his hands on her. When he runs his tongue between his lips, failing in his fight to keep his eyes from darting back to her shimmering pussy, she mocks concern as her hand grazes his throbbing cock making him jolt to attention.

His eyes on hers again, she asks. “What, this isn’t fun for you?”

“Oh, I am enjoying it,” he replies, managing to sound a little less desperate and more like his usual obnoxiously arrogant self, “but if you release me, I guarantee I will tear you apart.”

She laughs. “I don’t know, Five. That doesn’t sound very nice.”

“I mean that I am going to tear you apart in a good way,” he corrects, his lips pushing out in one of his grumpy looking pouts, to which she just laughs again. “Please, if you let me, I will do everything I can to make you feel good,” Five tries again, sounding much less sure of himself but fully meaning it.

“I know,” she coos, running her finger over the V muscles of Five’s abs, carefully unfastening his pants and pulling them down for him. When her hand moves against his raised cock, setting it free, Five tries thrusting it against her hand.

“Please touch me! I feel like I am dying. I’m so close. I am going to kah-uh-” Five bites out as his hips work up and down.

All at once, she cups his balls and squeezes. Not hard but hard enough. “Not yet you aren’t.”

"Touching me there isn't helping," Five whimpers adorably and she beams down at him.

“Oh? You like that too? I have been learning so many interesting things about you the last few hours and boy do I like it. Who knew this night would turn out so memorable.”

The girl leans in, brushing her lips across Five’s for the first time. His head drops back on the pillow again and his eyes flutter closed in anticipation as his dark lashes fan his flushed cheeks.

Much to Five’s dismay, the girl swiftly pulls back. With his lips advancing, searching for more and his eyes flipping back open with an undisguised look of disappointment, he uselessly tries to follow her again till his restraints won’t let him anymore and his shoulders flop back down on the bed.

“Please come back.” His voice comes off so needy and sad.

As Five looks up at her with insurmountable longing in his eyes, this is the first time he notices that the girl looks even remotely rattled. It’s like suddenly she doesn’t know what to do. To Five, it looks like the dominatrix that has been the boss of all this just disappeared before his eyes and the sweet and innocent looking girl he’d been watching from across the alley just reappeared in her place. He almost says something about it but then she speaks, stopping him.

“We are almost done, and you’ve been very good. Would you like to pick a small reward?” she very quietly asks, her voice much less sure than it was before.

Five shakes his head slowly, his expression an open window to his soul showing his pain and blatant desire for her. In-between that and his heated panting, Five truly looks like something wild and untamable, but his own words come out equally inaudible proving that is not true. “Please. Will you let me kiss you.”

As the line between the girl’s brows deepens and she pulls away even more, Five’s chin drops, his eyes darting away to anything but her for the first time since she started touching him.

Five looks so gut wrenchingly broken as he lets it register that she is totally repulsed by doing such an intimate and normally loving act with someone like him.

‘She is only doing this with you to make a point about how sick and wrong you were to do what you did. You are a pathetic piece of shit!’ his mind screams at him.

As Five’s mind attacks him with more thoughts about how awful and disgusting he is, the girl drops low and suddenly he feels the heat and wetness of her pressing down on his painfully hard length that has been left out to dry, bobbing helplessly above his torso. 

Eyes wide as he looks up at her, she presses Five’s dick down against his body, her hand coming down to better position him so he is encased between the slick heat of her soft folds.

Five wantonly sobs her name followed by a hardly contained groan of total rapture when he feels the first slightest friction, but she says nothing. Her mocking smile is gone, fully replaced by a softer look that Five doesn’t understand.

She locks her hands down on Five’s shoulders and begins rubbing her sex back and forth over him. She doesn’t raise up, or let him slip inside her, but she is letting the pressure of her body give him the stimulation he needs to help him reach his release.

“Oh fuck, thank you,” Five gasps over and over as his hips begin to rock up and down, trying to match the cadence of her sliding over him.

Five’s upper teeth bare down on his lower lip as he stares where their bodies are meeting. Every time the rounded head of his cock slips fully out from under her, he holds his breath, trying to fight like mad not to work himself back under her warmth even faster than she’s allowing it.

As the girl gifts him with her lips again, Five anxiously kisses her back and it’s sloppy and all passionate inexperience though she doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, she makes the most beautiful sounding moan against his mouth and Five is sure he feels her body shaking down where they are coupled, so he doesn’t stop.

Five wants nothing more than to keep her body reacting this way as long as possible, but he knows he can’t hold back much longer though he really, really wants to for both her and him.

Even as his abs stiffen and relax and the building tension in his stomach warns Five that the end is near, her thighs clench around him and she lodges her feet into the bed looking to fuck him faster. This pushes the already tangled blankets down towards Five’s feet as she ruts her sex back and forth even harder and it also makes the headboard start banging against the wall.

“Ffffive ,” she cries, sounding so lost that Five can’t believe his ears or how fucking crazy this is. 

Again, he’s sure that he can feel her shaking. Her trembling legs are tightly secured to his hips as she throws her head back, pulling their mouths apart as Five’s teeth lose their playful hold on her bottom lip.

Watching her lose herself as he gives himself over to her will is the most beautiful experience Five has ever had. Then, when she seems to have gotten some semblance of control over herself again, the girl’s lips fall against Five’s again and he happily allows her to show him a much gentler way to kiss.

The girl’s tongue massages Five’s as she continues to roll and rock, spreading her freshly found liquid desire over his happily trapped member. Unable to take anymore after less than a minute more of this, Five’s orgasm roars out of him, forcing their kiss to end.

“Fuck!”

With that one simple word, Five’s body shudders violently, and just like that, every ounce of tension slides from him as his hot seed spills out in short bursts over his abdomen.

His breaths are ragged, his body exceptionally weak, and his forehead and chest are damp with sweat. Five’s remaining clothes that are awkwardly stuck on his detained arms and legs are clinging to him as waves of heat wash over him.

When he finally opens his eyes again, Five looks up at the girl, lips slowly parting and closing again as he struggles with how to say what he is feeling. He wants to tell her what this means to him, but he can’t articulate it.

It’s everything he’s never had. It’s the trust he’s never allowed himself with anyone. It’s the pain of someone seeing him for what he really is and not being repulsed by it or simply walking away and leaving him to rot because they simply don’t care about him.

Five is wondering if this is what the blossoming of first real love might feel like in its most basic frightening and all-consuming form.

Like so many things, Five doesn’t know what it is but he wants it so badly that he can’t help it when this profound emotional overload causes his vision to blur from tears. Before Five can find the words to say anything that he feels is even remotely right, the girl climbs off him.

The sudden loss of her warm embrace leaves him instantly chilled. With deep grief seeping back into his expression, Five watches her move towards his kitchen.

When she picks up his revolver up off the table, his heart sinks to all new kinds of depths he didn’t even know it could.

The flames of his misery pour down his face.

Five frantically starts wrenching the ropes around his wrists and ankles even though he knows they won’t budge.

‘No, no, no, no, no,’ his mind reels.

Turning back and heading his way, the girl looks at him with the strangest look in her eyes. Five swears he sees them glistening much like his own must have been before they gave way and overflowed.

He wants to beg her not to do it, but he doesn’t. Five just lays there accepting it.

The girl’s face looks almost blank other than the pain that she’s unable to contain in her eyes. She doesn’t raise the gun as she reaches the side of the bed. It remains lowered against her leg. 

Without a word, she pulls Five’s switchblade from her waist band, leans over, setting it down on the pillow close enough that he can feel the cool metal fall against his skin.

Five fingers the switchblade into his hands while he also pushes himself towards her, desperate for her touch again, longing to bring the feeling he just had with her back, frantically trying to stop her from leaving him, wanting nothing more than to hold her and take that broken look out of her eyes.

She does not let him get close enough.

Without a word the girl swoops down, snatching her shoes from under the edge of the bed and without looking back, she rushes out the door.

Not knowing what this means or how to comprehend what just happened between them, the moment the door closes, Five flips open the knife and starts feverishly cutting the ropes holding him. His tears continue to flow as he breaks one hand free and starts just as quickly working on the other.

By the time Five has himself cut loose, the ropes still dangling from his wrists and ankles, his heart is beating so fast it feels like he is going to have a heart attack. Hastily fastening himself back in his pants while trying to get up, he almost falls.

Instead of grabbing Dolores and getting out of there before it’s too late, Five breathlessly lounges for his phone.

Holding it in his trembling hand, Five sees right off that there were no phone calls made since the last one on the log is from a day ago when he ordered take out.

The girl did not call the police, or not yet anyway.

There’s a very long thread of texts between Klaus and the girl from the time when he was out. Five can see that she Googled and found just about every single piece of information she could find about him and the Umbrella Academy on the web.

She was clearly using bits and pieces of information she found on him to trick Klaus into spilling the beans on him. She even said that she and Five were on a date and though he was being very gentlemanly with her, he was also extremely agitated and nervous the entire time. She told Klaus that he accidentally drank way too much and passed out once they got back to his place.

From what Five can tell, Klaus obviously believed that the girl cared and was reaching out, replying to his numerous concerned texts because she wanted to help. The goofy bastard probably thought he was telling the girl things that would make Five’s bad behavior a little more redeemable.

Skimming the text conversation, Five quickly gathers that she never even hinted at what he did to her, or what she was going to do to him. She and Klaus did have an in-depth conversation about him that included many pictures of Klaus being a moron while out at some club.

In one of them he is posing with cage dancers behind him while smiling like an idiot with about a zillion straws stuck inside his nose. The caption is Klaus daring the girl to stick something cool up Five’s nose and take a picture and send it back to him.

Instead of doing that, the girl took a close-up pic of Five’s drooling mouth gaping wide open as he lay there totally blacked out on the bed. She did it while lying next to him with a big smile on her face, and she angled it in a way to make sure that the ropes she tied him up with weren’t visible.

“Well, shit…” Five’s head slowly shakes back and forth the more he reads and sees.

Throughout their lengthy chat, Klaus told her Five needed therapy, but he believes his brother is too ashamed to admit that he needs help. 

He mentioned stuff about their crap excuse of a childhood at the academy. He told the girl about the first apocalypse and how Five was alone there for forty years, then when he was an old man how he was forced into becoming a killing machine for the evil timekeepers called The Commission. Klaus finished all that private stuff with how Five finally got away and accidentally ended up in a much younger version of himself with no clue how to handle it or what had been done to him.

When the girl asked about Dolores, Klaus’s text about it said:

‘Fivey had lost everything and was very young still when he found her. His Dolores saved him from being in a burning world alone. She is all that he has ever had. Please give him a chance. Five is weird but he is a good person even though he thinks that isn’t true.’

Klaus also wrote that he loved Five, and that though Five never says it, he knows that he loves them all too because he never stopped fighting to save them. He said that Five may seem like the coldest asshole on the planet, but he has the biggest heart Klaus has ever known.

He told the girl that Five has suffered in ways nobody will ever fully understand. He told her that Five saved the entire world multiple times, but in doing so he fears that his brother lost something he can never get back and that he doesn’t deserve to be so alone and sad.

Klaus told the girl that he is very worried, and he is so thankful that she was willing to give Five a chance and that she is staying with him till he wakes up.

Klaus had no idea the chance she was really giving him and right now, Five isn’t totally sure he understands it either.

He stops and glances around the room, noting the glass all over his bathroom floor just like the girl said it was, then he walks over to his window, looking out through his faded curtains towards her apartment.

Everything looks exactly the same as the night before, but he can’t tell if she went back there because behind her blinds, everything is dark compared to the sun shining outside.

He wishes so badly he knew if she was there and if she was okay.

“Fuck,” he whispers, knowing damn well that she isn’t. How could she be? What just happened was…

Looking back to his phone as he wipes at his eyes. Five reads more and he sees that the girl’s responses to all this madness Klaus was throwing at her were kind and very humorous, which surely kept Klaus thinking everything was totally okay. 

Thinking back on some of the things she said to him, Five can see now that they were being said to be funny but also to scare the shit of him which he totally deserved. He can’t forget the terrified look in her eyes when she woke up and saw his face and realized what he had done.

Out of all this, one of her last texts is perhaps the most interesting because Five doesn’t understand it at all.

She wrote:

‘Your brother woke up a little while ago and we had a nice talk. I am leaving soon. He agreed to meet with your therapist friend that specializes in veterans suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He’ll be ready to talk when you get here.’

Five looks at the time. That text was from forty-five minutes ago and she had to have sent it before they just…

He looks over at the bed. “Fuck,” Five curses again.

She knew all along what she was going to do, or at least most of it anyway. She clearly wanted to rattle him and strip him down so he’d see what he did and how horrible it was, but the way she did it was not just about that. The girl knew she was going to get to him in other ways too and that may have been the point of it all along.

She was trying to help him even after what he did to her.

Five’s head turns towards his door, as he startles from the loud knock. Standing there, totally stunned and emotionally drained and more than a little confused, Five is still not sure if it’s going to be the cops waiting for him on the other side.

Not even bothering to fix himself even though his hair is standing on all ends, his dress shirt and vest are hanging wide open, there’s blood on his cuffs, his black pants have visible smudges on them in the crotch region, and he has bright orange rope still tied around his wrists and ankles, Five goes to the door.

“Guten Morgen, Lil’ Broseph!” Klaus booms, pushing his way inside the moment the door opens.

Sauntering in, wearing skintight tie-dyed stretch pants and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, Klaus lowers his sunglasses and glances around. He stops on Five, his eyebrows raising.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What have we here? Fivey, you have ropes tied to your bed and….”

His eyes zone in on Five’s pants, then his hands and the evidence that he was in fact attached to the ropes still fastened to his bedframe.

“You sly old dog you!” Klaus’s big grin stretches even more as he pushes the drink caddy with a coffee for Five in his direction. “I can come back in a bit if your freaky little lady friend is still here somewhere and you guys aren’t done playing hide Mr. Pokey,” he offers, glancing around looking for her like he really thinks that’s what is going on.

“She’s gone,” Five says and the open sadness in his voice over that has Klaus’s smile quickly fading and his expression turning to one of immediate concern.

Still visibly shaking, Five reaches out, taking the kindhearted offering of his favorite stimulant. 

Looking at his brother, for the first time, Five actually wants to come out of the darkness he nearly buried himself in and lay it all out there on the line. He knows it’s time to empty the box of shame and pain he’s been drowning in.

Five has no idea how Klaus will take it when he hears the truth, and he is scared he will hate him, but he knows this is the only way to start if he wants to take this chance the girl gave him and try to fix what’s wrong.  

After a few sips of the warm heavenly fluid, Five wanders over and sits down at his kitchen table. He pushes the empty whiskey bottle aside as his eyes fall to the floor.

From there, he tells Klaus everything. 

Chapters 5-7 coming soon...

Link to the final three chapters

Master Post List to all my Five Centric Stories and Art